Hitting On All Sixes
by Traxits
Summary: A horrific accident forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all. AU, ensemble cast: Rufus, Reeve, Zack, and Tifa. COMPLETED ON NOV. 24, 2011!
1. Initiation

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Status**: Incomplete (8 of 10 chapters), as of 14 April, 2011.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Intense moments, mild violence, various romantic relationships portrayed (F/F, F/M, and M/M).  
**Chapter Word Count**: 2953 words.  
**Total Word Count**: 31796 words.  
**Pairings**: Eventual Rufus/Reeve, eventual Zack/Tifa, established Elena/Jessie.

**Request**: **Final Fantasy VII (any of the compilations)**, any characters: 1920s AU -_"Everybody knew that the ShinRa juice joint had the hottest jazz, the coolest drinks, and the dancers with the best gams in all of Midgar."  
_**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all. Features Turks, Shinra, and some AVALANCHE members.  
**Author's Note(s)**: Written for the "Are You Game" community on Dreamwidth. This is a completely self-indulgent piece, as I loved the prompt idea and there were no specifications for the characters/pairings. To that end, I decided to go with my own head-canon pairings. These are my own favorite ways to see the characters (though certainly not the only way I write them). I also didn't necessarily go for a "factual" 1920s; instead, I just wanted to capture the "feel" of the 1920s in the FF7 setting, so it's pretty anachronistic.

* * *

Midgar, the glory of the Shinra Electric Company, their favored city displayed so prominently on posters all over the world, stood, a giant of bright lights and loud noises in the middle of the plain, the patchy grass giving way to the expanse of gray-brown dirt that continued all the way into the city itself. A massive circle, eight reactors were spaced evenly around the rim of the city held up on giant pillars that are centered in the middle of the slums below. Paradise above the plate, the lights and noises spill over the edge, an offering to the black sky above. In the darkness below the plate, the only light comes from the juice joints, all decked out to rival even the swankiest place above.

* * *

**[[ … Chapter One: Initiation… ]]**

_14:25, 17 July_

"You know you gotta be nice to him, right?"

Blue eyes cut to the side, studying Reno curiously. "You think I wouldn't be?" He arched an eyebrow when Reno snorted. "Really, Reno? I can be diplomatic."

"Says you." Another drag off of the cigarette before it was flicked away, and then Reno added, "I'm just saying. You should try to charm him. Tseng will be quite put out if you terrorize him too much. They're friends, after all."

"Friends, and yet Tseng didn't want to do this instead?" Rufus waved a hand at Reno, dismissing him easily. The Turk worried too much. "Wait with the car." He heard another match strike, and he wrinkled his nose, glaring at the redhead. "And don't let that smoke in the car. I'll never get it out." Reno shrugged before he offered a little salute, just touching two of his fingers to his forehead. It was the best Rufus was going to get, and no matter how much it put his teeth on edge, Reno was _still_ the best pilot in Midgar. The only problem was that he _knew_ it, and thus the insubordination.

Shaking his head slightly, Rufus reached up to open the buttons on his white jacket as he took the stairs up toward the front of the building. He flashed his ID badge toward the guard at the security station- as though he wasn't known by face alone- and headed toward the elevator, pushing the button for the mayor's floor. Idly, he reached up and shoved a hand through his hair as he composed his expression, doing his best to look at least a little overwhelmed. It was more difficult than he figured it should have been.

An obnoxious chime and the doors opened, and Rufus headed down the hallway, peeling off the overcoat to fold it over one of his arms. He wanted to look as 'casual' as possible, since the target of this little operation was well known for being skittish. _Like a wild chocobo_, Tseng had said, a little smile on his face. _Approach as quietly as possible, do your best not to startle him when you offer the greens_.

The 'greens' in this case happened to be tucked under Rufus's arm, the plain manilla folder deceptively simple. Rufus stopped outside of the door, running over his mental checklist one last time before he lifted his hand to rap his knuckles along the door. The door opened before his fingers made contact though, and he was suddenly almost face to face with a flustered woman, who ducked under his arm without seeming to even notice him standing there.

"Of course, Mr. Tuesti! I'm getting it now," she called as she broke into a jog down the hallway, folders and papers clutched to her chest. Rufus watched her go, then glanced into the room curiously, not expecting to see the stacks of loose papers everywhere, _not_ expecting to see a cat sitting so delicately on one stack, licking at a paw.

"Reeve Tuesti?" He pushed the door open, looking around, stepping carefully when he entered the room. A flash of something dark, and then the Wutaian he was looking for appeared, holding a diagram of some sort that he spread out over a desk.

"Just set it in the box over there. I'll get to it when I can," he answered, studying the diagram intently, reaching out with a marker to write something in the margins. Rufus watched him curiously, taking advantage of the moment to really look at him. Reeve was tall and slender, his dark hair slicked back out of his face. Rufus couldn't _quite_ tell from the angle, but he was pretty sure that Reeve had green eyes, the only detail that belied the fact that he wasn't fully Wutaian.

"Vice President Shinra!" The woman's gasp brought Rufus back to reality, and he smiled warmly at her nodding slightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Rufus saw Reeve stand up straight, and then Rufus held up his hands, chuckling softly.

"Not here to disturb too much, honest," he said, his smile as disarming as he could make it. He held out the folder to Reeve, dismissing the woman as a secretary. She clearly yielded to Reeve in the office, and Rufus already knew who it was that he wanted to speak to. His eyes met with Reeve's, and the Wutaian hesitated only a moment before he took the folder. Reeve flipped through the pages, one by one, well aware that he was making Rufus _wait_ on him. Rufus arched an eyebrow, surprised at the gall; no one made him wait like this, and he could tell that even the little secretary was nervous.

She was wringing her hands, glancing quickly between both men until she couldn't stand it, and she hissed, "Mr. Tuesti!"

Reeve slowly closed the folder, but he didn't look up, only drummed his fingers along the manilla cover slowly. "So, you want me to come and look at it?" Finally, those eyes- yes, they _were_ green- lifted to look up at Rufus. "Just like that?"

"No one knows the reactors better than you. You streamlined their design, didn't you?" It could have been considered laying it on a little thick, except that it was true. Every word of it. Reeve Tuesti had not only streamlined the reactor design, but he had single-handedly designed Midgar, the rail system that served it, and the specialty programming for the eight reactors in the city. With the Junon reactor putting out such unstable numbers, Reeve was their best bet to fix it, even if he was officially a public servant to the city of Midgar and not a Shinra employee.

Another hesitation, and then Reeve asked, "When are you going?"

Rufus shrugged a little, careful not to show his amusement at the question. "We're leaving tonight. I was hoping you'd be with us." He gave Reeve just a moment, and then added quietly, "It's dangerous to leave the reactor like that, after all, and Junon has to have it." Reeve's annoyed glare melted at that thought, and his shoulders sagged before he nodded. Rufus felt a _momentary_ pang of guilt at dragging Reeve away; tonight, for once, they were actually holding a party in his honor in Reactor Five. It was a celebration of Midgar's fifth birthday.

"Right," the Wutaian finally agreed, and he reached behind the desk to pull out a bag. Tseng hadn't been kidding about the fact that Reeve Tuesti lived in his office. "Shelly, file the forms we were working on, and tell the mayor where I am. If he needs me, he can leave me a message on the Shinra line. I'll call when I get there."

Shelly nodded, and she smiled at him before she nervously tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. "And... send the..." She lowered her voice then, to just barely breathe the last word, "flowers?" Rufus arched an eyebrow, and Reeve nodded before he looked up.

"Are we going?"

Rufus stepped to one side, motioning toward the door. "After you. Car's waiting."

* * *

_17:50, 17 July_

Tifa stared at herself in the mirror, reaching up to brush her dark bangs back, trying to figure out if it was worth it to cut her hair or not. She reached back and felt the braid, smiling affectionately at it before she pushed it back to hang freely behind her. No matter what the fashion was, she was keeping her hair. Instead, she leaned forward and finished her make-up. Pulling the little cap down over her head, she headed out to the front of the building, unlatching it and taking up her position behind the bar.

She ignored Barret's sigh as she wiped down the counter, rocking back and forth to the music that was already being pumped into the joint. Seventh Heaven was famous for its jazz and dancers; it was what brought the crowds. She lifted her head when the other dancer finally came out of the back, content with her appearance. She had swept her dark hair back into a higher ponytail and tucked a flower behind her ear. Tifa smiled.

"Jessie, you ready for tonight?"

"Absolutely." Jessie grinned at her, blushing only slightly. She twirled, the short skirt flaring out slightly in the movement, and giggled, reaching up to hide her mouth. "Can I get one from the hope chest first though?"

The cigarette pack sailed through the air to her, and Jessie pulled one out, tossing it back before she stepped out the door, lighting it on the way. Tifa watched her go, and then looked over at Barret, her eyes narrowing as he worked with the metal arm, checking all the joints before the bar opened and he had to start working.

"You doing okay?"

"Just ducky, T." He flashed her a smile as he stood, and he walked over to the bar, taking the rag from her hand. He hesitated, and Tifa arched an eyebrow, leaning one hip against the bar. He must have felt her staring at him, because finally, he let go of the cloth and looked back up. "Tifa," it had to be serious; he rarely called her by her full name, "I got a job."

"A job?"

"Not... Nothin' that gets in the way of this." He motioned to the joint, letting her know he was planning on staying. She breathed a quick sigh of relief, and then she narrowed her eyes at him. He was too nervous, too keyed up. He was hiding something.

"What sort of job?"

"The sort that brings the snow."

"Th-that's chewing gum." Her mouth went dry, and she opened her mouth to speak, but the door opened behind her. She shot a glance over her shoulder, and she felt herself go cold. The last thing she needed was a Turk in her bar while Barret was talking about practically-treason. "Tseng," she said, as warmly as she could manage. She shot Barret one last glare, and then turned her attention to the Turk.

"Tifa." He smiled back, but his eyes cut between them as he moved to sit lightly on one of the bar stools. He tilted his head, long black hair spilling over his shoulder as he studied them. "Everything's okay?"

"Copacetic," Barret fired off, reaching up to get a glass. "Gin and tonic?"

"Always." Tseng shrugged slightly, and Tifa moved to stand just behind him, wrapping her arms over his shoulders.

"Always the first one here, aren't you?" She giggled, and when Tseng reached up to touch her wrists, she blushed slightly. She should have been used to it- she'd certainly been touched with more forward intentions than Tseng's- but he always managed to make her self-conscious. Perhaps it was because he was so careful not to touch anyone except the other Turks.

"If you worked above plate, you'd be the first one in here every night, too." He smiled and nodded to Barret when the glass was placed in front of him, and he took a long drink of it before he lowered it. "Can't wait for them to allow alcohol up there. We'll move Seventh Heaven right upstairs then."

Tifa swatted at his shoulder, laughing as she did. "You don't like us down here? Away from all those snooty people?"

For a moment, she thought she might have made him blush as well, but no, he was too composed for that. "I wouldn't mind having you on the plate," he murmured, turning slowly on the bar stool so that he could gently brush some of her bangs from her eyes. "You'd certainly fit right in."

"Oh, _Tseng_, the way you come down here and badmouth them? I don't think I like that." But she was laughing, and then Jessie was back and the joint was filling up. Soon, she was dancing, and then she wasn't thinking at all, until she saw Barret slipping out the back after she had taken over the bar once more. Her eyes narrowed, watching him go.

* * *

_21:38, 17 July_

"Sir, if you don't mind, I brought along a few of my weapon designs-" Scarlet scrambled to open up her portfolio, to get at least one of them out to display.

But President Shinra, even though he had his hand in the middle of her back, was already looking past her, lighting up as he saw someone. "Excuse me, Scarlet," he said quickly, cutting her off, leaving her standing there, blueprints in hand as she watched him head off to speak to some other woman, one without a portfolio the size of a large briefcase. Sighing, she shoved the blueprints back into the case and snagged another glass of champagne. She turned it up and set it back down on the next tray she saw.

The president would be giving a speech soon, expounding on the joys of living in on the Plate, ignoring the fact that thousands were still living under their feet, having spent the past five years without seeing the sky. She scowled at the next person who approached her, not caring who it was. Some party. The guest of honor, the engineer who designed the city, Reeve Tuesti, wasn't even there, nor was the one person who would have actually _looked_ at her plans, Rufus Shinra.

The dress had been a good idea though, even low cut as it was. It at the very least made them remember her name, no matter how fried they had gotten. Alcohol was illegal above the plate- hah! Almost everyone here was drunk, some too drunk to even stand properly.

Unable to stand another moment of it, she made her excuses and her farewells. Palmer, Heidegger, and Present Shinra himself were all just fat bags of hot air, talking just to hear themselves talk. Dr. Hojo had been polite enough, even if he had confessed that he was primarily interested in her as a test subject for some experiment. She had smiled and shuddered and quickly escaped _that_ conversation.

Now, she strode away from the reactor, toward the rail station. They could have their foolish fifth year celebration of Midgar, clearly, she would have to submit her designs under a false name, or to someone else entirely. She managed a very tired smile to the tall man at the platform, and when she all but _fell_ into the chair, he glanced at her, and a small smile of his own touched his face.

"That bad?" he asked lowly, and it took her just a moment to realize he had even spoken. She sat up, pulled her portfolio closer to her, and nodded slowly. Idly, she reached up to let her hair down.

"That bad," she confirmed, shaking her head so that it fell softly around her face instead of so severely swept back. "Bags of hot air." His smile widened a touch- it was _hard_ reading his expression with those dark glasses on!- and he took his position back up, standing there, feet shoulder-width apart, his hands behind his back. His suit looked uncomfortable in the heat of the night. "You're one of Rufus's Turks, aren't you?"

He didn't react, despite the fact that it sounded a lot like an accusation instead of a simple question. She nodded to herself slowly. President Shinra didn't necessarily like the Turks, but he certainly used them when they were handy. She wondered idly what his name was, but she didn't ask. She knew better. They never gave out their names to civilians. She watched him a moment more, and then she looked back at the hands she folded in her lap.

The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, her ears ringing, heat _everywhere _around her as she pushed herself up to her feet slowly. Her vision slowly cleared as she forced herself to concentrate, and she rubbed at her ears, trying to get them to stop, trying to make them pop or _something_. Little white flakes fell from the sky, and she reached out to catch one, staring at it, her brain struggling to comprehend what it was. Snow? Not in the middle of summer-

Her eyes lifted, and she gasped. What was left of the reactor was still ablaze, and the Turk, whoever he was, was running toward it, clearly planning on dragging out anyone he could. The train station was a wreck, and Scarlet just slid down to her knees as she realized what had happened. It wasn't snow; it was _ash_. Reactor number five was gone.


	2. Revelation

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4974 words

**[[ … Chapter Two: Revelation … ]]**

The helicopter ride had perhaps been the single most awkward thing Reeve had done in years. He sat in the back, right across from one of the most powerful men in the world, a man ten years his junior and three inches shorter than himself. Somehow, Rufus managed to look as comfortable as ever, leaning back, one ankle propped up on his knee as he watched the countryside go by under them. Reno and Elena, Rufus's private bodyguards were up front, actually piloting the machine.

Reeve did his best to keep from staring, burying his nose into the reports Rufus had so casually handed him in the office. He tried not to think about the fact that he was missing his own party, the first recognition he'd gotten since he'd been approached for his designs of the 'floating city.' He swallowed and refocused his attention instead, looking for a document that would explain the whole problem with the Junon reactor, although he doubted it would be so simple. As deep underwater as the reactor was, the problems that it developed tended to be unique, something that he had to actually look at to figure out.

By the time they finally arrived, he discovered that there was one benefit to traveling with the Vice President of Shinra Electric: the direct pass through _everything_. He scarcely had time to even realize where they were (even with the terrible traffic) when Rufus was already getting out, leading the way into the reactor. Reeve hesitated when he noticed that both Reno and Elena stopped short of the door, Reno pulling out a pack of cigarettes while they waited.

"You're not-" He started too soft though, because they were talking over him without even realizing that he'd spoken at all.

"Butt me." Elena held out her hand, and Reno handed her a cigarette before pulling one out for himself. "He probably has his hands all _over_ her right now." Elena scowled as she lit and took a drag off of cigarette, blowing the smoke into the air. "I'm going to have to remind him about that, you know? That bank is _closed_."

"Hell, can you blame him?" Reno lit his, and then he noticed Reeve still in the door. He grinned and waved a hand. "We'll be out here," he called, and then he turned back to the little blonde standing at his side. Reeve blushed, feeling almost as awkward as he had in the helicopter. This night just kept getting better and better.

Rufus was waiting for him just inside the door, leaning against the wall. He rolled his head a little to look at Reeve and smiled before holding his arm out, motioning for Reeve to head down the hall first. Blushing, Reeve did, his hand tightening as he realized he'd left his bag in the car. He'd need the change of clothes, he was sure, but he would have to go and get them later.

"What can you tell us?" Rufus stopped in the office, picking up a clipboard from the first desk he approached and glancing over it. The young man at the desk stared up at him, clearly shocked to see the Vice President hovering, looking for all the world as though he belonged no where else. Reeve felt the smallest of smiles touch his lips.

"S-sir! We weren't expecting you tonight!"

Rufus arched an eyebrow but didn't look up, instead choosing to drag one finger down the report on the board. "The output is still unstable?" It wasn't a real question, as Rufus wouldn't have been there for any other reason, and he certainly wouldn't have dragged along Mayor Domino's assistant for anything short of an emergency.

"Yes, sir." The man looked relieved to have something to discuss, although he kept glancing over his shoulder, waiting for someone higher ranked to hand the Vice President and his guest over to. Reeve almost felt sorry for him, and then he stepped out of the office onto the catwalk that overlooked the reactor itself. He drew a deep breath before he headed further in, stopping only at a safety station to gear up- gloves, helmet, and safety goggles- and leaving his suit jacket. He was pleased when he saw Rufus following suit, putting on exactly what Reeve did, leaving his heavy white overcoats (he wore two?) at the station.

Reeve picked up a toolbox and practically bounced down the stairs, reaching out and laying one palm against a pipe in the reactor. It hummed under his touch, and he forced himself to forget about Rufus, to reach inside of himself and find that string that connected himself with the very essence of just about anything engineered. This was his reactor design, the one he'd spent the most time on out of all of them; he could _feel_ her, hear her whispering to him. For another moment, he stood there, perfectly still.

"What are you doing?" _Rufus's_ whisper seemed loud on the other hand, and Reeve almost jumped at the sound of it, so close to his ear. He looked over his shoulder, where Rufus stood, eyebrows drawn. "Reeve?"

"Listening," Reeve answered before he started walking. "If you pay attention, you can hear where the problem is." He left his hand on the pipe, feeling the pulse of the mako in the reactor. Rufus followed him, still watching him curiously. Reeve moved, unerringly, guided by the reactor herself until he found what promised to at least be a major portion of the problem. He knelt down, ignoring the puddle of black goo on the floor, so that he could look under the pipe, and he frowned.

"I'll be back," he said, ducking under the pipe and disappearing. He heard Rufus calling to him, but he was already set to work, listening carefully for the whispers of the reactor. An hour passed, maybe two, but then he found it. There was a heavy cold under his fingertips, even through the glove when he reached out to touch the next pipe, and he frowned, following it until he had to jerk his hand off of the pipe, the cold was so strong.

"This valve?"

He looked over, his eyes widening as he noticed Rufus, wearing the same layer of grime that Reeve was, one hand on the nearest shut off valve. A boyish smile played over the Vice President's lips, and he shrugged a little. "Problem with authority figures," he offered, clearly entertained by Reeve's expression.

"I can imagine," Reeve replied, but he nodded anyway, glad for the extra hands. He just wasn't used to anyone so fearlessly following him off of the beaten path in the reactor. "Yeah, pull that one for me." He waited until Rufus pulled it, and then he set to work, opening up the pipe to check on the source of the cold. Blindly, he reached in, managing a small smile to Rufus when he found something. His hand wrapped around it a few times, trying to figure out how to grab it before he pulled it out.

The mass caught light and glittered while Reeve lightly shook his hands, glad for the gloves suddenly. Rufus took the thing from him- he wasn't even entirely certain what it was- so that Reeve could check the pipe once more. Satisfied that it was actually clear, he secured it and then threw the shut-off switch once more. The rhythm of the reactor hummed all around him, and only once he was sure that everything was back in proper working order, did he turn to look at the beast causing all of the trouble.

Rufus turned it over and over in his hands, his brow furrowing as he studied it. Reeve watched how it reflected the light for a moment, just admiring its appearance, and then it occurred to him what it was- what it had to be. Immediately, he snatched it out of Rufus's hands. The blond frowned at him, and Reeve flushed before he had the presence of mind to explain.

"It's mako," he murmured, and when Rufus's expression didn't clear, he added, "Exposure to mako can be dangerous, particularly for someone in your position, _Vice President_." With that, Reeve tucked the massive crystal under his arm and nodded toward the way they had come in. "I'll carry it out, and you can examine it up there. With proper safety protocol."

"I was wondering where you got them," Rufus said lowly. Reeve felt something cold ripple down his arms, and when he looked up, Rufus was studying him intently.

"Got what?" His mouth was dry as he looked at the younger man, and when Rufus stepped toward him, Reeve's instinct was to step back. Something about Rufus kept him on edge; the blond was... predatory. Then one of those hands shot out and gripped Reeve's chin, keeping him in place while Rufus closed the distance between them. When they were so close- Reeve could _feel_ Rufus breathing- everything else seemed to just fall away, inconsequential. Rufus's other hand lifted to pull Reeve's safety glasses off, presumably so that he could look at Reeve's eyes more closely, without the glare off of the plastic.

"Mako eyes," Rufus murmured, and Reeve blinked. Slowly, Rufus tilted Reeve's head, looking at him until Reeve flushed again, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "Been exposed through work?" He wasn't letting go, and Reeve wasn't sure that he could _make_ him. Rufus was focused on something, on some answer he wanted.

"N-no." Reeve tentatively tried to lean back a fraction, but there was a pipe back there and it only served to trap him further, cold mechanical design behind him and Rufus's impossibly warm body in front of him. He shivered. "Got exposed when I was young." Was Rufus leaning in closer? Reeve licked his bottom lip, his eyes narrowing.

"That right?" Rufus's breath was warm, not entirely unpleasant, although Reeve had to admit, the position was incredibly awkward. It was intense, _intimate_, and he wasn't sure that he liked it.

"Sir!"

The voice caused Reeve to gasp, then weakly let his head lean back against the pipe behind him, but Rufus didn't even seem fazed by it. Instead, he simply tilted his head back a hair so that he could call back (without shouting in Reeve's ear), "What is it?" Reeve was frantically thanking his lucky stars that the machinery had them completely shielded from view; it wouldn't do for the mayor's assistant to be caught necking the Vice President of Shinra Electric in the middle of a reactor. And no qualms about it, Reeve _knew_ that look on the younger man's face; another moment, maybe two, and necking would have been a definite possibility.

"The output has stabilized. Whatever you did, it worked."

Slowly, Rufus placed the glasses back on Reeve's face and backed away, and then he sank to the floor to crawl out. How he made it look graceful, Reeve had no idea. He took advantage of the brief privacy, pulling himself together before he followed the Vice President out. He cradled the crystallized mako to him, and they all three walked back up the stairs to the catwalk.

"How did you know what was wrong?"

"I didn't. Mr. Tuesti here found the problem." Rufus glanced over at him, and Reeve pointedly looked at the floor, watching his step. His grip tightened a fraction on the crystal formation he was carrying.

"Reeve Tuesti?" The tech stuck his hand out to Reeve, who smiled and shook it. "It's a pleasure, sir. You designed this reactor, didn't you?"

"I had a team of engineers working on it, sure."

"He's modest." Rufus stripped off his gloves and safety gear the moment he could, picking up his overcoats and folding them so they wouldn't be stained by the layer of grease coating both his and Reeve's clothes. Walking in the reactors tended to lend itself to purchasing new suits. "That same team works on other projects and still doesn't come up with anything half as ingenious now that Reeve isn't there."

"So, you don't work for Shinra Electric, Mr. Tuesti?"

"No." Reeve didn't remove any of his gear until he had secured the crystallized mako in a biohazard container. Only once it was sealed and labeled did he start peeling off gloves and glasses and helmet. He blew a soft breath up, moving his bangs from his eyes. "Listen, you need to have this looked at." He nodded toward the bucket that he placed carefully in the arms of the tech. "You'll have to shut the reactor down in sections and make certain that there aren't any other clusters. If these clog the pipe, the whole place will go."

Rufus nodded when the tech looked at him, lending his agreement to Reeve's words. "Perform a preliminary analysis on it, then send the container to Midgar, along with any others you might find. I want this reactor checked, top to bottom. The last thing we need is another Gongaga incident." He lifted his gaze to Reeve, who refused to look directly at him. Reeve didn't want to see the accusation that would accompany those words, that _always_ accompanied those words.

Instead, Reeve focused on folding his suit jacket, on making sure that he didn't smear it with any of the reactor's byproducts. Suits were expensive, and he didn't want to have to buy another jacket as well new trousers. He murmured, "We need to get our bags so that we can shower and change. This won't come out of the car seats."

Rufus did something, waved his hand or whatever, and then they were walking again, this time heading down the hall toward the locker rooms. Reeve blushed and fidgeted the whole way, picking at one of the seams on his jacket. By the time they reached the room, he'd managed to worry a string loose on the sleeve. He frowned as he set the jacket down.

"Reeve."

He stilled, then looked up at Rufus, his eyes narrowing. "Yes, Vice President Shinra?"

"Please, call me Rufus." _Rufus_ reached up and peeled the black turtleneck sweater off, dropping it over one of the benches. Reeve felt his face growing hot again and sighed slightly before he averted his gaze, focusing on his own clothes. "Reeve, why are you the Mayor's assistant?"

Reeve carefully unbuttoned his own shirt, taking his time. "Trying to steal me back to Shinra Electric, sir?" A little smile curved his lips, but he didn't look up.

"No." The answer was flat, and Reeve arched an eyebrow, sliding the shirt down over his shoulders. "I was actually wondering why you didn't run for mayor. You could have; it was well within your rights."

"I … I had other things to worry about at the time." The Wutaian's smile faded; his brow furrowed. "Are you saying I should have been the mayor instead of Domino?"

Rufus laughed, and he stuck one of the towels under Reeve's nose, forcing him to look up. "Reeve, Domino only got the position because President Shinra liked him for it. He wanted someone he could control."

Hesitantly, Reeve took the towel, still frowning. He watched Rufus slip into the first shower stall, and he slowly followed suit, taking the next one. He tossed the towel over the shower curtain rod, and he turned the water on full blast, not even caring that the first of the water was _freezing_.

He washed up quickly as he could, and even then, by the time he shut off the water, dried off, and got out (towel wrapped around his waist), Reno was in the locker room, holding out Reeve's bag. Gratefully, he took it, fished out a fresh white shirt and black suit pants, and dressed.

"Tuesti, they wanna see you in the office." Reno jerked his thumb toward the door, and Reeve nodded as he tugged his suit jacket back on. He shouldered his bag, and then frowned as he looked up at the redhead.

"What for?"

Reno offered him a little grin. "What makes you think I'd know?" He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Somethin' about Midgar, I'd imagine. They want you and Rufus both in there, soon as you got out."

Slowly, Reeve nodded again, and as he turned toward the door, he heard Rufus's water cut off. He didn't hesitate but walked on out. The last thing he really needed was this complicated _thing_- no. There wasn't a _thing_. There was a Vice President who seemed to think that everything on the planet revolved around him. He would get bored and eventually move on to more interesting prey. They always did.

Having reaffirmed himself, Reeve smiled and opened the door to the office, his eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall. Ten-fifteen, Midgar Standard Time; all reactors ran on it, so that there could be no confusion when ordering upgrades. That meant that it was only nine-fifteen in Junon proper, and Reeve was already getting tired. He reached up and rubbed his eyes, leaning back against one of the desks. No one else was in the office, but he figured they'd be there soon. No one would risk keeping an upper executive of Shinra Electric waiting.

"What do you mean, there's been an incident?"

Reeve lifted his head at the sound of Rufus's voice, at the _tone_ of it. The Vice President sounded upset as he stormed into the room, a swirl of white fabric and flashing blue eyes. A tiny smile lit Reeve's face, but he hid it behind one hand as Rufus rounded on the man holding up his hands.

"It's not _my_ news, sir," he shot back quickly, trying to look as disarming as possible. He was taller than Rufus by a good three inches or so, and yet he still managed to cower effectively. A Shinra Electric employee requirement; Reeve had been quite good at making his own frame much smaller before he finally quit. … Sadly, he had to admit that it was a skill he still used.

"Well, it's not news at all unless you actually tell me what happened." Rufus was aggressive, closing in on the man. "Calling it something like an 'incident' only causes further panic."

"There's no need to panic at all yet, Vi-" Reeve caught himself, smiled, and added, "Rufus." He reached out, touching the Vice President's arm with the lightest of his fingertips. "We don't know what's happened yet."

Rufus shot him a look, one that Reeve wasn't sure he understood, but then he nodded curtly, drew a deep breath, and leaned back against the desk beside Reeve. Suddenly, the Wutaian couldn't help but wonder if perhaps it would have been better to allow Rufus to rage a few more minutes. With him standing so close, Reeve felt self-conscious, felt like the heat arcing between them was too much, _too_ intense. Maybe that was just Rufus's effect on people though. Idly, Reeve reached up and rubbed his arm lightly.

"We've had calls from Reactors 04 and 06 in Midgar." The secretary looked so nervous that Reeve wanted to reach out, to pat his hand and smile encouragingly, but something held him back. The news seemed rather dire if it couldn't wait until they'd had a little sleep. "Reactor 05, sir... There's been an explosion."

Reeve's eyes widened, and he pushed himself off of the desk, his mouth suddenly dry. "W-what? How bad? Did they say what caused it?" Mentally, he pulled up the reactor schematics, trying to identify anything about Reactor 05 that had bothered him, that had stuck out in the construction as being 'wrong'.

"No, sir. There's no news yet. It only just happened. Your Turks have been informed, and they're waiting at the car, sir."

Both men exchanged looks, and without another word, Rufus and Reeve were headed out, Reeve gripping the strap on his bag so tightly that his knuckles ached. The trip back was passed quietly, Reeve's attention focused as he watched for Midgar on the horizon. When it finally did, all of the bracing in the world couldn't have prepared Reeve for it. The city, _his _city, was ablaze, and for one terrible heartbeat, he felt like the entire plate was alight with fire.

Then his vision cleared, and he narrowed his gaze, understanding that it was only panic blinding him that way. Reactor 05 had been on fire for a while, at least two and a half hours by the time they got there, but it was under control. There were people working on it, and the spotlights in the area had it lit almost as lightly as during the day. Reeve swallowed, and when a heavy hand rested on his shoulder, he leaned back into it, grateful for it, no matter how suspicious he might have been of the motives behind it. Rufus's touch was welcome in that moment, as it lessened the ache in Reeve's chest.

Reno landed the helicopter right there, and Rufus stepped out easily, as though he did this everyday. He reached back and offered a hand to Reeve, who admitted freely that he _didn't_ go bouncing out of helicopters everyday. He stood there, in the heat of the fire, for several minutes, long after Reno had taken back off, and Rufus had stormed off, the cloud of white coat and angry shouting.

When he finally did move again, he found himself slowly slipping out of his jacket, letting it drop to the ground, and rolling up his sleeves. He walked into the wreckage, reaching out to touch the twisted fragments that were still attached to the plate, his fingertips burning from the lingering heat, even though he was careful not to get too close to the flames. He felt something in his chest aching, and he closed his eyes, his fingers tracing patterns over the heated metal.

He slowly disconnected himself, reaching out for the reactor, following the thread that seemed to connect him to her. It took a long time, a lot of digging and reaching and pleading and calling for her before he finally found her, before he could finally hear her last whispers as she succumbed to the flames and the abuse her 'rescuers' were putting her through, cutting wildly in the metal as they searched for survivors. Reeve gritted his teeth and dug his fingers into the metal, trying to hold on to her, trying not to let her slip away from him so easily.

It was a futile battle. She had held on as long as she could for him, waiting for him to arrive, waiting for him to save her. But there would be no saving that night; she understood that. It would be easier to simply rebuild instead of trying to repair. Reeve sighed as she escaped him, leaving him with her final whispers, her final legacy to him. _Look in the parts. Look at the power core._

Reeve drew back his hand then, letting her go, and he turned his attention to the nearest groups of engineers, of rescue workers who were throwing parts to the side carelessly as they rushed, their sense of urgency still high even after so long of working. He walked over, feeling as though he were in a daze as he dug through pile after pile of parts, looking for the faint blue glow that was the core, the _heart _of his reactor design.

He finally found it wedged under a larger piece, and by the time he got it out, his fresh white shirt was stained from sweat, the oppressive summer heat bearing down on him as much as the flames finally being put out did. He dragged in a deep breath, and he studied the core, his fingertips touching every inch of it. He swallowed thickly and looked around, his eyes landing on the one man still in a full suit, dark sunglasses over his eyes.

"Hey. Hey, are you one of Rufus's Turks?" Reeve coughed, but the man heard him, because he was still for only a moment before he came over, kneeling down beside Reeve in the rubble.

"Mr. Tuesti, what can I help you with?"

Reeve blushed a little, but he was already beet red from exertion, so perhaps the Turk wouldn't notice. "What's your name?" They still had to shout a little to be heard over the roar of the rescuers, of the screaming reactor, the crackle of the flames.

"Rude, sir."

"Right. Okay, Rude, listen. We need to get this part out of here. It's important." Reeve coughed again, and Rude nodded slowly before he stood, peeled off his suit jacket and draped it over Reeve's shoulders. Reeve stared as Rude hoisted the core up and over one shoulder. It wasn't that the core was particularly _big_, but it was quite heavy, quite dense. No matter how _big_ Rude was, carrying it that easily was impressive. "Right. Okay then." Reeve pushed himself up.

"President Shinra is in the tent over there, coordinating the search teams." Rude's voice was low, pitched only for Reeve's ears, and Reeve nodded, drawing a deep breath. He _hated_ talking to President Shinra. The tent looked innocuous enough though, so Reeve braced himself and headed over to it.

He ducked inside, holding the flap open for Rude behind him. Rude immediately settled the core on the ground in the corner, careful to keep holding onto it, so that it didn't fall over. Reeve looked up, and his eyes widened as he watched Rufus delivering orders. President Shinra wasn't in the tent at all. Patiently, he let Rufus get the fresh batch of searchers caught up to speed and sent out, and then Reeve approached him carefully.

Rufus looked up at him, and his expression softened just a bit before he asked lowly, "Reeve, have you heard yet?"

A frown. "Heard what?"

"You haven't. … Reeve, President Shinra was in the reactor when it blew." Rufus hesitated, then added quietly, "Mayor Domino was as well."

"What? Why?" Reeve's eyes widened. Both the mayor and the president in the same moment?

"The party." Rufus shrugged, and Reeve reached out to touch his arm lightly. The blond didn't look at him though, instead just putting his other hand up to his mouth for a moment. Reeve saw him swallow, and he felt a pain in his chest. The president had been Rufus's father; surely he hadn't had any time to grieve. Instead, he had plunged into his position thoroughly, taking charge and delivering orders as though it had all come naturally to him.

"R-right." Reeve squeezed Rufus's arm lightly, trying to give whatever measure of comfort he could. Then he looked back at Rude, blushed, and added, "Rufus, you need to call the police."

"They said it was reactor malfunction, Reeve. Not foul play." But those blue eyes narrowed, studying him intently when they finally lifted up. "Do you have evidence otherwise?"

"The core." Reeve motioned and Rude moved it over, placing it carefully on the table. Reeve offered him a smile, and then rolled it to display his find. Scorch marks, in a distinctive pattern. "This wouldn't have been caused by the fire," he said, tracing them without _quite_ touching them. "They're different. Evidence of an incendiary device." Reeve looked up at Rufus, adding, "A bomb."

Rufus studied the marks for a moment, and then he reached over for the emergency phone that had been rigged for their use. He dialed a number, holding the handset up to his ear. "I need the police commissioner," he announced into the phone. He was quiet for a moment before asking, "Commissioner Lazard Deusericus? This is President Rufus Shinra speaking. I need you to send someone down. … To Reactor 05, yes. We have reason to think this might have been an attack, not an accident."

Breathing out a sigh, Reeve looked back at the power core, and he traced it for a moment again, studying it carefully. The detectives could sort out who did this; he had done his fair share, making certain that everyone was notified. He glanced up and frowned for just a moment when he noticed Rude looking at him- or maybe he wasn't? Those glasses made it impossible to tell- but then the bald man turned toward the entrance to the tent, folding his hands in front of him.

"Reeve?"

Reeve jerked back to the present, dismissing Rude and looking over at Rufus instead. "Hm?"

Rufus set the handset back in its cradle, looking at him curiously. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" Reeve frowned, his brow furrowing. The blond narrowed his eyes, leaning forward just a little to put his hip against the tabletop.

"To deliver a speech. The press is waiting."

Reeve's eyes widened, and he glanced between Rufus at the entrance to the tent. For another long moment, he was enveloped in visions of stampeding reporters, glaring cameras, and microphones being shoved into his face. Then he felt Rufus's hand against the small of his back, and he drew a deep breath.

"Yeah," he said, smiling with a bravado that he didn't feel. "The public needs to be reassured," he whispered.


	3. Jurisdiction

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).**  
Chapter Word Count**: 3580 words.**  
**

**[[ … Chapter Three: Jurisdiction … ]]**

"That's it. Time to punch out, Strife." Zack waved a hand over his shoulder, laughing as he brushed off his partner's sputtering protest. "Don't care. We'll finish up that paperwork tomorrow. I mean, it's not like it's going anywhere, is it?" He offered his very best grin as he lowered his voice and perched on the edge of Cloud's desk. "Sides, I heard about this place beneath the plate—"

"Fair!"

The voice made Zack jump to his feet and glance toward the door, doing his best to look as though he _hadn't_ been attempting to convince his rookie partner to join him for a very illegal drink. "Commissioner." He crossed the room, well aware that one did not make Commissioner Lazard repeat himself more than once. "What can I do for you?"

The Commissioner handed him a scrap of paper. "Reactor 05? Looks like there was foul play. Go." And with that, he disappeared back into his office, leaving Zack rubbing his fingers lightly over the paper. He sighed, and then he walked back by his desk, wrinkling his nose.

"Well, we're not punching out yet," he announced, and he grabbed his jacket. He scarcely noticed that Cloud didn't argue this time, instead immediately grabbing his own jacket and following Zack out of the precinct.

"Where are we going?"

Zack handed him the paper before they reached the car, and by the time the engine was running, Cloud whistled lowly. "The explosion was a bomb? I thought the first responders said it was an accident."

"Apparently a certain Mr. Tuesti seems to think otherwise." Zack shrugged as they pulled into the road, sirens blaring. He didn't like to deal with traffic any more than necessary, and while this wasn't necessarily an emergency, he didn't want to wait any longer than he had to. "Not too sure what to think of that."

"Reeve Tuesti?" Cloud glanced back up at Zack, frowning. "He designed the city."

Zack didn't take his eyes off of the road. At the speeds he liked to drive at, it wasn't safe. "Yeah? I thought Shinra designed it."

There was a flash of movement— Cloud had waved his hand. "Yeah, but Tuesti was the lead engineer. He also reworked the reactor designs and ... I think he did something else. The rail system maybe."

"Huh. Why haven't I heard of him?" Zack was filing away the information for later, certain that eventually, it would come in handy. After all, someone who had managed that many major projects should have had far more spotlight. "Is he still with Shinra?"

Cloud shook his head. "No. He's the Mayor's assistant or... something. He apparently doesn't like the press. He let Shinra take most of the public credit."

"Smart move," Zack decided. "After all, Tuesti is a Wutaian name, isn't it? No one would have wanted to live in a city designed by a Wutaian."

"The war was years ago, Zack."

"Well, sure. It wouldn't be quite as big of a deal now, but... There's still plenty of anti-Wutaian sentiment."

Cloud remained quiet, apparently still digesting that fact, until they reached the reactor. It was huge, dominating its section of the plate. The smoke still billowing out of it was blanketing the countryside, leaving a dark fog over the area. Zack headed toward the largest white tent bearing the Shinra logo, certain that the president would be in it.

"You the detectives?" A lanky redhead was waiting for them at the tent flap, smoking a cigarette that he absently flicked to the ground when he saw them. At Zack's nod, he glanced them both over. "Mr. Shinra'll see you in just a minute. He's speakin' to the press."

There was a certain lack of ... something in the way he spoke. Some sense of derision that laced every move he made. His blue suit, although clearly one of the nicer ones, was sloppy, jacket open and tie hanging loosely around his neck. Zack frowned.

"Is he inside?" He didn't wait for confirmation, just slipped past the redhead and into the tent. Cloud sputtered an apology before following, and Zack heard another match strike.

The tent was packed close to over flowing: every paper in the city desperate to get the best angle on the reactor accident. Rufus Shinra was standing in front of them, calm and polished as ever as he spoke, occasionally reaching up to move a strand of light hair that seemed determined to fall in front of his eyes. At his side, a Wutaian stood, and he was decidedly less polished.

He looked as though he hadn't slept, and he tended to jump just a little whenever the press spoke to him directly. Surprise that they had noticed him perhaps. But when his eyes met Zack's, there was something soothing about him, something reassuring. Zack wondered if he needed to get more sleep.

"And let me reassure everyone that this was an isolated incident. There is nothing unstable about the reactors." Shinra smiled, and the flash of too-white teeth was a little unnerving. He looked like a shark. Zack smiled to himself, and there was a burst of flashes from the cameras. Apparently, they weren't as put-off by it.

"Mr. Shinra! Is it true then that you've assumed the presidency of Shinra Electric?"

"Yes; yes, it is. I will do my best to live up to my father's legacy."

Zack's eyes narrowed as he watched Shinra say that, watched the way the blond's mouth tightened. He almost spat out the word 'legacy'. Interesting.

There was a tug on his arm, and Zack glanced back toward Cloud. Cloud raised an eyebrow, and Zack waved for him to settle down. There were undercurrents here that Zack wasn't quite ready to disturb yet. He looked back to the reporters.

"Mr. Tuesti!"

The Wutaian, finally beginning to get used to the press, didn't jump this time. He lifted his head and smiled faintly. "Yes?"

"You're temporary mayor now, aren't you? Since Mayor Domino was killed in the blast?"

Tuesti swallowed thickly, and then he nodded. "That's right. I will take over until we can hold an election."

"Which we will be aiding in," Shinra interjected. "We want to hold a new election as soon as possible." He glanced at Tuesti, who smiled, and then he added, "We plan on supporting Mr. Tuesti in his campaign for mayor, after all." There was a fresh flurry of activity, but all Zack could see was Tuesti's face.

There was a brief, but complete look of horror on it, and then he pasted a smile on and nodded, doing his best not to make waves. Shinra let the reporters talk a few more minutes, and then he gently swept them out of the tent with, "Gentlemen, I'm afraid we will have to pick this up another time. Lots of work to finish here."

Slowly, the reporters left the tent, until Zack, Cloud, Rufus Shinra and Tuesti were the only ones inside. There was a faint movement in the back of the tent near Tuesti, and Zack realized that no, there was one more person in the tent with them. He was a huge beast of a man, and while the redhead had looked sloppy and thrown together, he wore his suit quite well, pressed and buttoned.

Shinra glanced over at Zack and Cloud, and he held out a hand. "The detectives, I presume?"

"Yes, sir," Zack replied, offering a smile. "I'm Detective Fair; this is Detective Strife." Cloud was just beside him, and Zack could hear the notepad flipping open. There was a slight scratching as Cloud made sure the pencil was sharp enough to take his notes. Zack pushed his hands into his pockets. "I hear there was some evidence of foul play?"

Rufus Shinra studied Zack for a moment, but before he could speak, Tuesti had cleared his throat. He pointed toward a piece of the debris hidden under a sheet. "The power core has evidence of an incendiary device." He crossed the room and pulled the sheet off, and for just a moment, Zack was speechless.

The thing— the power core— was beautiful, even with the black smudges smeared across it. It still pulsed, a rhythm that Zack had felt when standing near any of the reactors. It was the rhythm that the entire plate ran by. He hesitated, but Tuesti was touching the core without gloves, so Zack let himself indulge by tracing his fingertips over the blue mass.

It tingled under his skin, and he thought that the pulsing picked up just a fraction before it settled back into its normal rhythm. He bit his bottom lip before he forced himself to look back up at Tuesti. "So, the reactor was stable before the explosion?"

Tuesti nodded quickly. "Of course. I double checked the reactor flow this—" He stopped suddenly and cast a look toward Shinra, who had a small smile playing over his mouth.

Zack looked between them. "What?"

"He isn't supposed to have access to the reactors any more, since he's not an employee," Shinra said finally, amusement on his face. "But of course, anyone who is working in them recognizes him, and no one would tell him that he can't walk through it."

Zack glanced back toward Tuesti, and he narrowed his eyes as he realized that there was a faint blush on the Wutaian's face. "Mr. Tuesti?" He spoke softly, prompting. He could hear the slightest scratching as Cloud took his notes.

"He's right. I'm not supposed to go in there any more."

"Why did you leave Shinra Electric?" Zack looked back at the core before he motioned for Cloud to come closer. "Sketch that pattern," he murmured to Cloud lowly.

"Is that relevant?" Rufus Shinra took a step closer, folding his arms over his chest. Zack didn't bother to respond to him, just raised an eyebrow at Tuesti. There was a moment of silence, and then Tuesti shrugged.

"Difference of opinion, is all. It wasn't anything... No one was upset by it, if that's what you're thinking." Tuesti looked back at Shinra though, and Zack wondered if that was actually the truth. "I mean, there were some offers to come back, but... I don't think most of them were serious."

Zack nodded slowly. "Why weren't you at the party?" He was pretty sure that the question made Shinra tense, because suddenly Rufus Shinra was walking across the tent, moving papers and reactor blueprints and who knew what else. "I mean, it was in your honor, wasn't it? Being the lead designer." Cloud made a low noise behind his back, and Zack suppressed a grin. Cloud would learn, eventually, that one used whatever information one had, no matter how recently learned.

"There was an emergency in the Junon reactor," Tuesti explained with a sigh. "Mr. Shinra asked for my assistance in resolving the problem, and by the time we were done..." He trailed off, sighed, and rubbed at his forehead. "We returned right away, of course. Something like this—"

"Of course. Was this... Mr. Shinra senior?"

"No, detective. It was me." Shinra looked up, offering one of his political smiles, that smooth facade that showed very little. "I had received the report and while I was going to go ahead and go... I thought it best if I could get the most quality assistance."

"Even with the party for his accomplishments?"

Shinra leaned forward on the table just a little, and Zack straightened up. He didn't let himself back down, didn't let Rufus Shinra throw his weight around the way he was used to doing. If they were going to have Midgar's finest investigating this event, then they were going to be properly investigated, no matter what Shinra thought of it.

"Even with the party."

Zack smiled again, making certain that this one was as bland as possible. "So, was there anyone here who actually saw the explosion? You and Mr. Tuesti arrived afterward, didn't you?"

Rufus made a jerking motion with his hand, and the giant in the back of the room stepped forward. He sighed as he pushed his sunglasses back up more on his nose.

"I was here, as was a Miss Scarlet Hinton."

Zack swallowed and tilted his head back just a little to look up at the man in the dark suit. "And you are?"

"Rude, sir."

Zack nodded slowly, and he blew out a breath. "Well, we will need to ask you some questions then."

Rude nodded slowly at them, and Zack glanced over at Shinra and Tuesti. They had retreated to the table, and he could hear Tuesti speaking lowly about the search and rescue plans. His eyes narrowed, straining to see more about their body language, to try to piece them together, even as he asked, "What exactly did you see happen?"

"I was at the train station. Miss Hinton was waiting on the train. There was an explosion."

Zack glanced back toward the man and raised an eyebrow. "That's it? It just... exploded?"

Rude folded his hands in front of himself. Ex-military, Zack decided after he watched Rude shift until he was apparently more comfortable. "That's all I saw," he confirmed.

"Can we speak to Miss Hinton? Is she still here?" Cloud's voice was surprisingly welcome in the middle of the questions, and Zack reached over to take the notepad from him. Cloud's eyes widened momentarily, then he shoved his hands into his pockets, a perfect imitation of Zack's own lazy confidence.

Zack had to admit, Cloud looked natural doing it.

There was a rustle as Rude left the tent to search for their Miss Scarlet Hinton, and Zack looked back over the notes on the pad. He attention was on Shinra and Tuesti though, because suddenly, they were speaking about something that Zack was fairly certain had nothing to do with search and rescue.

Their voices rose sharply when Tuesti hissed, "How can you be so calm?" And Shinra shushed him before murmuring something else. Zack frowned.

Of the two, he would have put his money on Shinra. The man was entirely too relaxed for having just lost his father, lost the entire board of the company. Instead, he was standing there, not seeming to be concerned at all as he spoke with Tuesti, calmed him. Zack glanced up just as Shinra's hand lifted to touch Tuesti's elbow, and from the way Tuesti quickly dropped his arm, Zack suspected there had to be something else going on.

He bit his bottom lip.

Then Miss Hinton was brought in, and Zack felt everyone in the tent draw a collective breath. Her blond hair was mussed, clearly from having been so close to the blast, and she was quite pale and shaken, but even then, she was surprisingly lovely. Her body was encased in what had to be the most revealing red dress that Zack had ever seen on a woman.

"M-Miss Scarlet Hinton?" Cloud stammered her name, and for once, Zack didn't think he would have done much better.

She offered them a small smile, clutching a portfolio in one hand. Rude took that from her and placed it on the table near Shinra. She patted her hair, and then she smiled again, clearly more ready to deal with being questioned. "Please, call me Scarlet."

"Ah... Scarlet. Can you tell me what happened?" Cloud rocked a little on his heels, still staring, and Zack, amused, went ahead and made a note of her name. He underlined it.

"Of course. I mean, I don't remember much, but... I was done at the party. It was a little bit of a bore without Mr. Tuesti there." She glanced past Zack and waved a little. A touch of red lit Tuesti's face before he waved back. "But what can you do? So, I was waiting on the train when the reactor blew. I don't remember seeing much."

"You were in the party before hand though?"

"Yes."

Cloud hesitated, and then he asked, "Do you remember anything unusual about the party? Anything ... out of place?"

She considered the question. "I... I'm afraid I wouldn't know if anything was out of place, detective. I'd never been in a reactor before." She sighed. "I mean, besides the smell, but I thought that it was some guy's cologne or something."

"What smell?" Tuesti's head had lifted at those words, and Zack raised an eyebrow.

"It was... sharp. It almost smelled like... copper." She made a face. "I remember thinking it smelled a bit like blood." Tuesti shook his head.

"Were they drinking?"

She hesitated before she nodded. She quickly glanced back at Cloud and Zack. "I didn't have any," she assured them.

Zack waved a hand at her, dismissing it, and he looked over at Tuesti. "What is it?"

"I... I put a chemical compound in the outer shell of the power core. If it was breached, it would have released a distinctive smell in the air, designed to warn the engineers of a crack. But she shouldn't have been able to smell it from where the party was being held. Everyone in that party should have recognized the smell, but if they were drinking..."

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Could it stick to someone? Their clothes?"

Tuesti nodded. "Of course. It's almost impossible to get it out of fabric."

He jotted a note down in the pad and nodded slowly. "Good. Maybe we can locate our bomber that way." He inclined his head and smiled. "Thank you for your assistance. If you could give your contact information to Detective Strife here, we would be grateful."

He headed for the front of the tent after tossing the notepad and pencil back to Cloud. His hand stopped just as he started to open it, and he looked back at Shinra. "You'll be around, won't you? In case I have more questions."

Shinra smiled back, political and bland. "Of course."

They made it back to the car before Cloud turned to look at Zack. He had that expression that he got whenever he thought Zack was out of line or just outright insane. Zack wondered if he could light a cigarette without it being too obvious that he wasn't looking forward to this discussion. Finally, he decided against it and instead, he cranked the car.

Cloud flipped through the notepad, and he finally said, "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know yet," Zack said honestly, and he sighed as he pulled the car back onto the road. "But what do you think the odds are that there was an emergency in Junon that required both the Vice President of Shinra Electric and the mayor's assistant? On the same night as a party in the assistant's honor, no less."

There was a pause as Cloud considered it. "Not to mention Mr. Tuesti would have been probably the one person who would have recognized the scent no matter what," he said slowly, and Zack clapped a hand on the side of the wheel.

"Exactly! And now everyone is dead, and did you see Rufus Shinra looking shaken up about it? No. Tuesti did at least look pale when he talked about the reactor, but Rufus? The bastard stood there, cool as you like. As though we were discussing the weather." Zack sighed. "He should have been in there for that party. We need to know how often he goes out to the reactors in emergencies."

Cloud fidgeted for a minute. "But we'll be stepping on toes like this, Zack," he finally said, and Zack blew out a breath, knowing full well that Cloud was right.

"We'll have to be clever," Zack finally said. "Smart. We can't let anyone know who we're really looking into, Cloud." He glanced over just for a heartbeat at his partner, who nodded. His eyes darted back to the road. Cloud always went along with him, no matter how outlandish.

It was Zack's favorite thing about him.

"You want to check his finances then?" Cloud was making a note in the pad, and Zack nodded slowly.

"If you can do it without raising red flags, that would be handy," Zack replied. "The last thing we need is someone shutting us down."

"Do you think Rufus did it? Sabotaged one of his own reactors?"

Zack frowned a little at the road, and then he rolled his shoulders in some semblance of a shrug. "To kill his old man and take over the company? I think he's capable. At the very least, he's capable of paying someone else to do it." He remembered the quick jerk of Tuesti's arm away from Rufus's touch, and then he added, "And putting Tuesti as mayor gives him someone he can control."

Cloud inclined his head in agreement. "There's definitely something going on there," he said. "Something that no one said anything about."

Zack chuckled. "I don't think they'd have told us if there really was something going on. Looks suspicious if Shinra really is planning on funding Tuesti's campaign."

A faint blush lit Cloud's face, but he nodded sharply as he thumbed through the notes. "Right. Well, in any case, I'll take the finances, but what are you going to do?"

His fingers drummed along the wheel for just a minute before he smiled. "I'm going to talk to Tuesti alone," he decided.

Cloud glanced up at him, and he shook his head slowly. "You're insane," he announced, and Zack laughed again, wondering vaguely if Cloud wasn't right.


	4. Premonition

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, sexual tension.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4011 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all.

**[[ … Chapter Four: Premonition … ]]**

Seventh Heaven was quiet that morning, and Tifa woke up slowly, rolling her head around to pop her neck. She drew a deep breath and began her morning ritual: shower, combing out her hair, and deciding on clothes for the day as well as picking out the dress she'd wear later that night for work. It wasn't until after she'd put on her make-up that she even wandered into the kitchen, where Jessie was already sipping coffee.

The paper was immediately pushed in her face, and Tifa waved it away without looking at it. Instead, she fixed her own cup of coffee. "What is it?"

Jessie held the paper out, pointedly glancing across the kitchen at Marlene, who was munching on her cereal. Tifa sighed, took the paper, and just as she raised her cup to her mouth, she noticed the headline: **Reactor Explosion Rocks The Plate**. She lowered the cup, her breath catching in her throat. Sure, she'd heard the boom at some point in the night, but she hadn't really thought anything of it. Instead, she'd simply decided that there was some sort of celebration going on up there, marking the five years.

Her eyes narrowed as she skimmed the paper, but her breathing relaxed just a little as she spotted the Turks in various snapshots. When she'd managed to count all three of the ones who hadn't come in last night, she felt better. They were good customers; perhaps a little rowdy, but they certainly never let anything get out of hand in the bar.

She handed the paper back with a sigh. "That's Elena, isn't it?" she asked, and Jessie nodded slowly, relief clear on her face. Tifa smiled. "I'm glad she's all right."

Jessie fidgeted just a minute more, then she asked, "Can I get one?" When Tifa nodded, Jessie disappeared into the front of the bar to fish a cigarette out of the pack Tifa kept tucked away. Their funds were limited, and cigarettes could get expensive quickly. Limiting them was the most economical choice.

There was a loud crash of the back door hitting the wall, and Barret walked in, his good arm slung over his friend's shoulders. "T! Marlene!" Both men laughed, and Dyne knelt to catch Marlene as she charged at them. Tifa's eyes narrowed as she studied them.

They looked like they hadn't slept yet, and somehow, that scared her more than anything else.

"Barret. Dyne." Tifa sighed as she reached for two more mugs and poured coffee for each of them. As she held out the first cup to Barret, she smiled warmly at Marlene and said, "Sweetheart, why don't you go and get started on your studying? Aunt Jessie will be in soon to check on you."

Marlene looked at her father one more lingering minute, then nodded and slid down to run into her room upstairs. Tifa kept the smile on her face, and she wiggled her fingers when Marlene hesitated at the steps. As soon as she heard the door shut, she held out the second cup of coffee to Dyne, and her smile faded.

"What did you two do?" She looked between them, her hands on her hips, trying to pin them with a firm stare that would _force_ them to tell her. "Did you have something to do with this?" She brandished the paper at them both, and their faces made her heart stop. Dyne wore a faint, almost smug expression, and Barret... Barret was outright proud. She drew a deep breath, purposely looking up to the ceiling as she reigned her temper back in.

Dyne took a long drink of his coffee, and then he set it down on the top of the table and held up his hand. "T, you can't be angry with us—"

"You're always sayin' that you want somethin' better—"

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?" She cut them both off, hissing the words between her teeth. The door opened and shut; Jessie walked in, stopped, and, sensing the tension in the room, darted on upstairs. Tifa waited until she heard Marlene's door open and shut once more before she added fiercely, "You're going to get all of us killed, that's what you're going to do. What is Marlene going to do if something happens to either of you?"

The two men exchanged a look, and Dyne sighed as he pushed himself up. He drained his coffee cup and reached into his pocket where he pulled out his wallet. He pointedly looked at Tifa as he thumbed through a wad of bills bigger than Tifa could have pictured him keeping. "For taking care of her for me, T," he told her as he pressed a portion of them into her hand. "She loves you like a mother."

Tifa's hand shook as she clenched the money, and she held it out toward both of them with the same accusing look she had worn when the paper had been in her hand. "Where did you get this kind of money?"

Barret smiled. "People are sick of Shinra. They want to take the plate down, see the sky again. We're heroes down here."

"You're idiots," she gritted, but all the same, she folded the bills and tucked them into her pocket. "For Marlene," she said firmly, aware of the look she was getting. "And do _not_ ask me to protect you two at the expense of Jessie and Marlene."

Dyne held up his hand. "Wouldn't dream of it, T," he promised, and Tifa wished so desperately that she could believe him. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead as she returned to the counter, where she'd abandoned her own coffee. Her eyes flicked back to the paper, and for the first time she noticed the ash in the picture, floating down to the ground.

"Bringing the snow," she murmured, and she heard Barret's laugh.

"We sure as hell did."

"You're not going to do it again, are you?"

"Course not," Barret said after just a minute. "We made our point."

Tifa closed her eyes, drew one more good, deep breath, and nodded. "Good." Why then did she feel so nervous, so frightened that everything was going to go terribly wrong? The two of them had gotten away with it; it was over.

* * *

She was off of her game that night, and Tifa was glad that both Dyne and Barret were working. She and Jessie were decked out in some of their best, and as usual, Tseng walked in first, taking his normal place at the bar. He smiled that small smile to her; she waved, and Barret delivered him the gin and tonic that he always ordered. Shortly behind him followed a lanky redhead, Reno, and his stoic partner, Rude. She smiled to both of them as well.

Reno ordered for both of them, and Rude never said a word in the bar. Really, he didn't need to, because Reno managed to talk enough for both of them. Jessie stayed keyed up and nervous until Elena came in as well, and then she visibly relaxed and wrapped her arms around the blond in a tight hug. Elena laughed as she returned it, pressing an affectionate kiss to Jessie's forehead.

Everyone in the bar cheered, and Tifa didn't bother to hide her smile. She had to admit, Jessie and Elena were a striking couple, with Jessie wearing her dancing costume and Elena dressed in her suit, matching her coworkers. Jessie stayed just long enough to exchange a few words, and then she joined Tifa on the small stage where they danced.

Two songs, and then they took a break, much to the patrons' delight. Everyone's favorite time was when the two of them worked their way through the crowd, laughing and flirting outrageously even as they delivered fresh drinks. Honestly, Tifa wasn't sure she'd have traded the work for anything; she loved getting to be so cheerful and friendly.

The door opened just as she and Jessie were preparing to do another number, and Tifa felt something in her world shift as two men walked in, one with black hair and one with blond. She almost missed the opening beat to her song, but then she launched into it, and for some reason, she felt exceptionally flushed as she noticed them watching her.

And Jessie, of course, she reminded herself sharply. Jessie was dancing just beside her. They could have been staring at either of them. When the number was over, Tifa slipped in the back to steal a cigarette. There was some rustling, and then the door opened and the dark haired man spilled out into the narrow alley with her, and he blushed as he spotted her.

"You dance well," he offered, and she smiled at him. "I'm D... Zack. Zack Fair."

"Tifa Lockhart," she replied, and she held out her hand. He raised it to his lips and kissed the back of it— like she was some sort of lady, not just a dancer in a juice joint— and she felt something in her stomach flip. She couldn't stop the blush on her face. "I... Is this your first time here?"

He let her hand slide from his, and he leaned against the side of the building as he looked at her. "Yeah. That obvious?"

Tifa took another drag off of the cigarette, then flicked the ashes off. It was something to keep her hand busy. Something to keep herself occupied. "No. I just try to remember faces." She, too, leaned against the wall, then turned so that it was her back against it and she could look up at the bottom of the plate overhead. He chuckled and they were quiet for a few more minutes before she asked, "Where are you from?"

"Two," he replied, and then he looked over at her again. She could feel his gaze raking over her, taking in her costume. She shivered as she considered the relative darkness of the alley, the quiet that blanketed them. She could just hear the muffled music from inside, the faintest hint of the foot traffic bustling out front.

"Yeah? I've never been over there." She pushed herself off of the wall, and she took one last puff from her cigarette. She tapped the ashes off. Then she glanced at it, trying to decide if there was enough to justify putting it out and saving it. She caught his look, and she smiled at him again, trying to stay perfectly calm. It wasn't as though she were helpless. "I thought I could finish the whole thing," she offered, by way of explanation.

"Not tonight, eh?" He held out his hand, and she hesitated only a moment before she gave it to him. He raised it to his lips, and she could see the faintest smudge of her lipstick disappear under his own lips. He blew out the smoke from it, and there was an expression on his face that bordered on bliss. "Been trying to quit," he murmured, closing his eyes briefly before he looked at her. "But I'm always up for helping a pretty girl."

She laughed. "I bet you are," she replied, and she was careful to keep her voice even, to not think that he had practically kissed her in that motion, that long, slow drag from the cigarette. Or rather, she had kissed him, in the sense that her lips had been on the cigarette first. "I need to go in. Set up for another dance," she said slowly, trying to figure out why her heart was racing in her chest. "Will I see you inside?"

He nodded and glanced down at the cigarette in his hand. "You dance all night?"

"Sure. Nothing else to do down here." And with that, she disappeared back into the bar, a hand over her chest, in the irrational concern that her heart might burst through. She spotted Jessie on Elena's lap at the bar, and Elena was laughing, leaning over to clink her glass with Reno's. Tifa smiled. It was _normal_, something that she was used to seeing.

Not some intense stranger who flirted with her by offering to take the cigarette that she couldn't finish. She headed over to them, and Barret provided her with a drink before she could even ask. Her smile widened, and then Reno had pulled her into his lap, exclaiming, "See, Laney? I can have a pretty girl on my lap, too."

She laughed with everyone else, even as she carefully removed herself from him, sliding off of his lap to stand on her own two feet again. "Jessie, you ready?" She took a swig of her drink, then handed it back for Barret to hide behind the counter. The music revved up again, and Jessie joined her on stage for a tap routine that they both thoroughly enjoyed far too much.

It continued that way for the rest of the night, alternating between dancing and serving drinks, and when they cut off the lights on the stage, there were protests, patrons begging for one more song, one more dance. But Tifa and Jessie were tired, and they played that up to those sitting the closest to the stage— _wouldn't want us to drop, would you?_— before they headed back to the bar to pick up drinks to serve.

She spotted her stranger— Zack, she reminded herself quickly— across the room, and when he saw her, he leaned over to grab both his and his friend's glasses. He started toward the bar, but he stopped short when he saw the blue suits, all neatly in a row. Tifa turned to make sure that they were indeed what had stopped him.

Before he could change his mind, she intercepted him, crossing the room to him and taking his glasses with a bright smile. "I'll get you another?" she asked, and he nodded slowly, looking past her at the Turks. She headed back to the bar, and just as Barret handed her the new drinks, Reno swiveled in his seat, narrowed his eyes.

The laughter faded from his face like a switch had been thrown. That in and of itself wasn't necessarily unusual; Tifa suspected that a lot of Reno's joviality was forced, a front for him to use as his coworkers relaxed; he snapped back into that angry, nightstick wielding brawler at the first sign of a fight. When he saw her picking up the drinks, he caught her arm and said, "That's a cop. A detective."

Her eyes widened as she glanced toward Zack and his friend. She swallowed. It wasn't that they were doing anything illegal in Seventh Heaven. In fact, it _was_ legal for them to serve alcohol, since the law only covered above the plate. That didn't stop raids though, didn't stop the occasional cop that got it in his head that he needed to clean up under the plate.

She was a great deal more nervous as she walked back, drinks in hand. She smiled easily enough as she served them, but it was like the air had suddenly changed between them. Zack looked at her a little differently, kept glancing past her toward the blue suits who seemed right at home. He didn't linger after that. He caught her right near the door, paid for their drinks, and disappeared, leaving her with an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

She was grateful when they closed for the night. Jessie tried to stay, to help Tifa and Barret and Dyne straighten up, but Tifa waved her on. "Elena's staying?" she asked, and when Jessie nodded, Tifa laughed. "Well, go see her then." And Jessie smiled at her before she vanished back into the house proper, just behind the joint.

Tifa turned her gaze to Barret and Dyne, narrowing her eyes as she wiped down some of the tables. They were leaning together, speaking as lowly as they could, clearly not wanting her to hear them. She gritted her teeth. They were planning something that they knew she wouldn't like. It was the only reason for them to behave like that.

She sighed, shook her head, and scrubbed down the next table a little more furiously, burning off the anger that those two managed to spark in her. Barret wasn't too bad without Dyne there, poking and prodding and coaxing him into doing stupid things, and for the life of her, Tifa couldn't understand how those two, who loved Marlene so dearly, could risk the danger in exchange for a feeble strike at Shinra Electric.

Tifa dropped the rag against the table. That wasn't to say that managing to destroy a reactor wasn't impressive, exactly, because it was. But the truly impressive thing in her book was that the two had found someone to fund them, someone to pay them for their reckless behavior. She licked her lip, and when she lifted her head, a stack of glasses balanced in her hands, they were gone.

The glasses very nearly went crashing against the floor, but she dropped them onto the nearest table after just a second of realizing what had happened. She walked through the bar quietly, checking everywhere they could have been, but they had really managed to slip out on her, to leave her cleaning the bar after she spent the entire night dancing.

She forced herself through the rest of the work then, and by the time she dragged back into the actual house, dawn was breaking. Elena was drinking a cup of coffee, and she raised an eyebrow at Tifa's appearance. Immediately, she moved over to the cupboards and searched for a glass.

"Would you like some water?" She looked back, and when Tifa nodded, she fixed her a glass. Tifa drank it greedily before she started over to the sink to wash it, but Elena stopped her and did that for her.

Tifa must have looked worse than she'd originally thought.

"I didn't realize you were in there alone," Elena offered as she settled the glass back in the cupboard, freshly washed and dried. "I thought..." She swallowed, then shrugged slightly. "My apologies for stealing Jessie last night."

"Nonsense," Tifa muttered, waving a hand. "It's not your fault. Those two idiots bailed on me." She dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, and Elena carefully sat beside her. Tifa was impressed to see that Elena was already back in her suit, fully dressed and ready to face the day. She didn't even show any signs of how much drinking had been done the night before.

Tifa's eyes roamed over the kitchen, and she knew full well that she needed to get some sleep. The joint would be open by dark again, and she only had so many hours left to catch some sleep. But she couldn't seem to turn off her brain, so she simply read the side of the paper facing her, changing to a new article each time Elena rustled it.

"Is that today's paper? Where did you get it?" Tifa's eyes narrowed as she checked the date.

A secret sort of smile, and Elena raised an eyebrow. "Your neighbors might be missing theirs. Just ignore them if they complain to you."

Tifa reached out and caught the paper though when she spotted a picture of a Wutaian standing beside Rufus Shinra. She'd never seen a picture of Rufus Shinra, and she studied him carefully, trying to get a measure for the new president of Shinra Electric.

Elena smiled. "That's Reeve Tuesti with Rufus."

Tifa looked up at her, wondering what it was like to be close enough to someone so powerful that she could drop his first name like that. "Tuesti?" She wasn't sure what else she could say, didn't want to admit she'd only picked the page out because of Rufus.

"Yes. He designed the plate." Elena shrugged a little, folding the paper to drop it back on the table. "Along with the rail system. He's nice enough."

"You've met him then?"

"Spent most of yesterday with him," she admitted. "Rufus was ... not comfortable leaving him alone after they figured out that the explosion was sabotage instead of an accident."

"What?" A chill raced down Tifa's back at those words. Barret and Dyne had gotten away with it, hadn't they? The paper from yesterday had reported that it _was_ an accident. "Did they release new information yet?"

Elena shook her head, apparently unaware of Tifa's distress. "No. It's not in the paper. Mr. Tuesti spotted the scorch marks on the reactor's core though, so they called the police." She looked at Tifa over the top of her coffee cup. "You met the lead detective last night, I hear."

In a flash, her stranger popped in her head, and Tifa swallowed thickly. Zack was investigating Barret and Dyne's attack? Where had they gone then, since they had assured her that they were done? She shook her head a little. "He didn't say he was a detective."

"Not surprising." Elena tapped a finger on the top of the table. "I mean, he was hitting on you."

Tifa looked up, but she couldn't stop the pleased smile at the thought. Even with all the danger, all the secrecy, there were some things that never ceased to make her happy, and learning that someone was attracted to her was one of those very few things. "You think so?"

Elena laughed before she took another sip of coffee. "Of course. You didn't see the way he was watching you. He couldn't take his eyes off of you."

"Were you watching him to make sure he wasn't checking out Jessie?" Tifa raised an eyebrow with a light giggle and was rewarded when a blush touched Elena's face. "You were! You're so jealous, Elena."

A hand wave dismissed her statement. "I might not like what Jessie does, but I wouldn't stop her from doing it." Elena shrugged a little as she leaned back in her seat. "After all, who am I to tell her what she can and can't do?"

Tifa thought about that, about how comfortable with herself Elena was, dressed in that man's suit, holding her own next to some of the most frightening men she'd ever seen. She smiled a little and reached out to touch Elena's hand. "I like that about you," she decided aloud, as much for Elena's benefit as it was her own. "I like how strong you are."

Elena covered Tifa's hand with her own and squeezed it briefly before she returned to her coffee. "Thank you," she said lowly. "Now, why don't you go on to bed? You have to be exhausted."

"Are you leaving again soon?" Tifa rubbed her eyes with a sigh. "I can't go to sleep without someone awake for Marlene—"

"I'll get Jessie up before I leave." Elena gently helped Tifa back to her feet. "Go. Rest. Everything will be fine. Jessie can watch Marlene, and if you like, I can track down Barret and Dyne—"

"No, no. That's fine." Tifa reached up and rubbed her forehead. "Don't worry about them. They'll be back in time for work tonight. I just didn't want Marlene alone in the house." She hesitated, wanting to linger in the kitchen, with its cheerful coffee scent and faint light beginning to tease the edges of the curtains in the windows, but the lure of the bed was simply too much.

She went into her room, changed mechanically into her nightgown, and just as the light began to really filter in— the mechanical lights overhead, not the sunshine that was already hidden behind the plate— she collapsed into her bed. Her arms wrapped around one of the pillows, and she closed her eyes.

She prayed, in the vaguest sense of the word, that Barret and Dyne weren't doing something else risky. She didn't want to wake to a knock on the door or to the simple realization that both of them were gone or even worse, to another explosion.


	5. Recollection

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, sexual tension.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4181 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all. Features Turks, Shinra, and some AVALANCHE members.

**[[ … Chapter Five: Recollection … ]]**

The morning after the explosion was one of the most chaotic in his life, and that included the opening of the Sector Five— the first completed sector— of Midgar's plate. He had spent the entire day with one of Rufus's Turks... the blonde; Elena. She had trailed every step he made, effectively shepherding the press when he stepped out to really inspect the damage and even redirecting queries that Rufus was better equipped to handle. He'd never been more grateful for a body guard, and when the sun finally sank, leaving him back in the office, he was almost sad to see her go.

She vanished with the sunlight though, leaving him to stare at a pile of paperwork that he wasn't sure he could deal with in that moment. He sighed, sat in his chair, and sorted through it, his eyes lingering over a stack of receipts that Shelly had left for him.

Normal things, although he did stop to examine the one for flowers. His mother's birthday. He'd made certain to send her something that she could plant, something alive. It would bring a smile to her face, especially since he couldn't make time to go and see her personally. He pocketed that receipt.

He didn't spend the night in the office though, no matter how much he thought that he probably should. Instead, he made it home close to one, slept for about five hours, and then was back up, showering and pulling a fresh suit on so that he could be out the door by six-thirty.

He arrived in the office with a sigh, rubbing his forehead and wondering where the hell his night had gone exactly, and he was more than a little surprised to find his office locked and barred. He tried the handle several times, but when it refused to give, he glanced down the hallway. Shelly wasn't already waiting for him, wasn't standing there with a stack of folders for him to review and sign.

He probably stood there, staring at the door for a good five minutes, trying to decide what to do, when a familiar voice called, "Yo! President Shinra had your things moved." Reno walked down the hallway toward Reeve, and he jabbed his thumb back toward the elevator. "You're in the mayor's office now."

Reeve blinked very slowly, digested that idea, and then he nodded. "Right. Thank you." He headed toward the elevator slowly, and he scarcely noticed that Reno followed him until the redhead leaned over to push one of the numbers. They stood there in silence, or what would have been silence had Reno not been tapping out some rhythm on his leg.

"So... You and the Pres, eh?" Reno glanced over at him, and Reeve immediately felt a flush coloring his face.

He managed a sputtered, "W-what?"

Reno's grin widened. "Come on. You can tell me. I'm paid to keep secrets, y'know." He leaned over a little closer, and Reeve immediately put a hand in the middle of his chest, purposely keeping him at arm's length. "What?"

"No," was all Reeve could get out before there was a chime and the doors opened. He was glad to see that no one was standing in the hallway waiting for him, and he escaped the elevator quickly. Reno didn't follow him this time, just stayed in the elevator, hands shoved into his pockets. Reeve drew a deep breath before he opened the door to the office, and he felt his head spin for just a moment.

The view always did that to him, the open expanse of paned windows looking out over two of the sectors. He licked his lips before he moved, before he approached the massive desk that had been selected to dominate the room. He hadn't been in the mayor's office very often. Actually, he realized, a wry smile on his lips, he'd been in there exactly three times. In five years. He touched the surface of the desk curiously. His eyes closed as he stood there, bracing himself with both hands laying flat on the desk.

"It's always interesting to see what a man does first in his new office." Rufus walked in from a room behind where Reeve stood, a door that would have been in plain sight once he sat down. Reeve turned, smiled, but couldn't say that he was honestly startled. Reno had been the herald.

"It's not my office," Reeve replied smoothly, and he reached for the top of the stack of folders. He didn't sit. The plush chair behind the desk seemed out of character for him, unfitting. He could also hardly refrain from imagining Mayor Domino's face if he had ever seen Reeve sit in his chair. The thought brought a faint smile to Reeve's face. "I'm simply using it."

Rufus held up a hand, dismissing the matter. "We both know that you'll win this election, Reeve," he replied easily, and he took the chair instead. _He_ looked supremely at ease in it, leaning back until he could prop his heels up on the corner of the desk. His suit was perfect, pressed and impeccable and _white_, and Reeve caught himself adjusting his own suit after just a moment. Purposely, he lowered his hands from the fabric.

The first of the folders were standard reports, final inspections that only required the Mayor's signature. Reeve wasn't really that surprised to notice that they were at least two weeks old. Things that should have been done that hadn't. He sighed, reached for a pen, and counted out the first half of the stack. He signed each of them and deposited them on the other side of the desk. He ignored how strange it looked to see his signature on two lines, dated weeks apart.

He was still leaning over the desk, picking up the next folder, when he realized that Rufus hadn't moved. The blond was sitting there, his blue eyes sharp as they watched Reeve work. Self-consciously, Reeve lowered the pen and frowned.

"What?"

"Nothing. Don't let me stop you, Mr. Mayor." Rufus shook his head, smiling blandly. "I'm just impressed at your efficiency. Midgar's in better hands with you, isn't it?"

Reeve felt the beginnings of a blush on his face, but before he could respond, there was a rap on the door. Both he and Rufus looked toward it, and he actually looked back at Rufus before he realized that it was _his_ call. He ignored the heat rising up his neck as he called, "Yes?"

"Mr. Tuesti, there's a Detective Zack Fair here to see you."

"Send him in." Reeve cast a look at Rufus,who simply raised his eyebrows, a smile still on his face.

The detective shut the door slowly behind himself, and Reeve noticed after just a minute that his partner— Strife?— wasn't with him. He worked up a smile to offer the man, deciding that he could ignore the looks that Rufus and the detective were exchanging. There was some sort of animosity between them that Reeve did not want to poke at.

"What can I assist you with, Detective?"

Detective Fair looked at Rufus pointedly before he glanced up to Reeve. "I was hoping to speak to you alone, Mr. Tuesti," he finally said, diplomatically, and Reeve nodded slowly. That was standard police procedure, wasn't it? He was pretty sure that it was.

"Of course—"

"You're not going to try pinning the blame on him, are you, Detective?" Rufus leaned forward, folding his hands together. "I mean... you're not prejudiced against Mr. Tuesti given his heritage." The last statement was strained, as much as a question as it was anything else. An accusation.

Reeve rolled his eyes to the ceiling, remembering suddenly why he'd never pressed when he had learned that he was being passed over for mayor. The detective smiled evenly and crossed his arms. He didn't seem bothered at all by the implication, the tone Rufus had so casually accused him with.

"Not at all, Mr. Shinra. In fact, I need to speak to Mr. Tuesti about an unrelated matter." He glanced back at Reeve, who nodded slowly.

"Of course. Ah..." He looked at Rufus. "Mr. Shinra," he said slowly, "why don't you and I speak another time?"

Rufus pushed himself to his feet, walking out past Reeve with only a look and a low, "_Rufus_," whispered as he walked by. Reeve drew a breath, braced himself, and motioned toward one of the chairs across from the desk as soon as the door shut behind Rufus. He could feel goosebumps along his arms.

The detective didn't sit though. Instead, he chose to pace by the window, and Reeve picked up another folder to look through so that he wasn't tempted to follow the motion with his eyes. The man would make him dizzy.

"Mr. Tuesti... How—" He stopped, paced some more, and then looked back at Reeve. "How well do you know Mr. Shinra?"

Reeve fought down his knee-jerk reaction, struggled to keep from exclaiming, '_I hardly know the man at all!_' It seemed like everyone today was determined to figure out whether or not Reeve was somehow intimate with the new President of Shinra Electric. "I know him professionally," he finally said.

The detective nodded slowly. "The emergency in Junon—"

Reeve held up a hand, sighing slightly. "I thought this was unrelated." When there wasn't an immediate response, just a long look, Reeve felt a shiver run down his back. It had been a ploy, a way to get Reeve to make Rufus leave. He bit his lip. "Are you investigating Rufus Shinra?" The concept was almost foreign to him, unbelievable. No one investigated Shinra Electric; not without an excess of evidence.

"Of course not," the detective replied, waving a hand. "I have to make sure of where everyone was however, and you're the most reliable witness for Mr. Shinra's whereabouts." He smiled easily enough as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms in the motion.

"Ah... I see." Reeve really didn't though. If they had questions about Rufus, they should have been asking Rufus, not Reeve. His confusion must have still shown on his face, because the detective shook his head again.

"Just tell me the truth, Mr. Tuesti, and I'll be gone much faster. I'm sure you have a lot of work to do." He glanced toward the files, and Reeve nodded slowly. "Now... the emergency in Junon. What sort of emergency was it?"

Reeve lowered the folder in his hand, and he reached up to rub his forehead. He was beginning to develop a headache. "There was a clog in the pipes. Easy enough to fix, but the key is being able to locate it. When a clog is suspected, the reactor is normally shut down and searched in sections."

"But Mr. Shinra asked you to accompany him to search for it?"

"Not... exactly. The reactor was putting out strange numbers." Reeve hesitated, and then he confessed quietly, "The numbers looked like those the Gongaga reactor reported before it exploded. That was reason enough for Mr. Shinra to be concerned."

The detective nodded slowly, but there was something heavy in his gaze as he studied Reeve. "You quit Shinra Electric after Gongaga," he said slowly, and he pushed off of the wall. Reeve's jaw locked, but he inclined his head, confirming that. "Do you think Gongaga was your fault?"

He felt his heart stop just a second, and then Reeve looked away. "It was an accident," he murmured, sighing. "No one could have prevented it." But it _had been_ Reeve's newest reactor streamlining that had caused it. Not that he would have admitted it to anyone. He was still under a contract with Shinra, a long legal document that prevented him from saying anything about it. Besides, Gongaga had simply been the last straw. There had been other incidents prior to Reeve's departure.

Detective Fair nodded again. "Is it common for Mr. Shinra to go on those emergency calls?" The sudden topic shift was enough to make Reeve look back up at the detective.

"What?" He frowned slightly. "I wouldn't know. I'm not employed by Shinra Electric any longer. I haven't been for close to four years now."

Another nod. "Right. My mistake." The detective gave him one of those disarming smiles, and Reeve felt himself relaxing slightly. "Do you plan on allowing Shinra Electric to assist in your campaign?"

The question was enough to make Reeve's head throb all over again. He sighed slowly, uncertain of what exactly to say. He didn't even want to run, honestly, but he hadn't had a chance to speak to Rufus about it yet. "I ... I don't know for certain that I will be running, detective," he finally said. "I enjoy assisting in the running of the city."

The detective laughed. "You haven't read the paper yet, have you? Well, you think about that. Thank you for your time, Mr. Tuesti." And with that, he disappeared out the door, and Reeve frowned as he watched him go. He stopped just at the door to exchange a few low words with Rufus, and then he was gone.

Rufus came back in the room, but Reeve ignored him in favor of digging around on his new desk until he discovered the paper. His breath caught at the sight of the headline, but he thumbed through it until he saw another article that made him feel strange.

**Reeve Tuesti to run for Mayor!**

He turned toward Rufus, holding the paper out, and he frowned. "What is this?"

* * *

That damned detective was making things difficult. Rufus glanced over at the paper, studying it for a moment before he said, "Well, that looks like your campaign announcement."

"A campaign that I'm not running!" Reeve sighed, reaching up to rub his forehead before he looked back over at Rufus. He looked weary, more resigned to his position than he did actually angry. Rufus's eyes narrowed, studied him a moment more, and then he shrugged.

"If you'd really rather not run, we can arrange that. I simply thought..." He let a hand rest on the stack of folders. He was aware of Reeve watching him, watching as he dragged a fingertip down the side of the stack. "... That you might be interested. You know this city, Reeve. Better than anyone else does, at least."

Reeve swallowed, but he was sold. Rufus could see it in his eyes, in the way that he looked out past Rufus toward the glittering buildings stretching out through the glass. They didn't say anything for a few minutes, while Reeve clearly grappled with the idea of accepting such a position, and finally, Reeve nodded slowly, a frown still marring his features.

"This isn't Gongaga," Rufus said softly, and he closed the distance between them, leaning against the desk just beside Reeve. He folded his arms over his chest. "Midgar is stable."

"We had a terrorist attack two days ago." Reeve sighed again, but he didn't flinch at the proximity this time, didn't quite look as though he might bolt at the first sign of anything. "Midgar is uneasy. And besides, it's not Gongaga I was thinking about."

Rufus nodded slowly. "You were thinking of Corel," he finally said.

"Only situation comparable really."

"Did you tell the detective that?" Rufus raised an eyebrow, curious now. He knew Reeve by reputation mostly, by what he'd managed to glean from Tseng. He didn't have that good of a measure of the man himself, the engineer who had almost single-handedly designed every impressive feat by Shinra Electric. "Tell him about Corel?"

"Of course not." Reeve shuddered just a little, and Rufus's eyes narrowed. "I'm under a gag order," he explained, his voice quiet. "Shinra Electric could press charges against me for talking about it. You know that."

"He asked though. About why you left." It wasn't a question; didn't have to be. They both knew exactly why Reeve Tuesti had left Shinra Electric. He had managed it the same way he'd done everything: quietly pushing the paperwork through and not breathing a word of it until everything was over and done with.

Reeve didn't answer, but then, he didn't need to. Rufus knew the detective had asked because the man had been far too interested in it even at the site of the reactor itself. Rufus leaned over and touched Reeve's arm, and this time, Reeve didn't flinch at that either. Rufus smiled slowly.

"Well, not that it actually matters. I mean, Shinra Electric has managed just fine, and Midgar has certainly benefited from our loss, hasn't it?"

The faintest hint of red touched Reeve's face, and Rufus's smile widened. He was satisfied with that; he simply liked being able to get such a reaction out of Reeve. He pushed himself off of the desk then, took one of Reeve's hands, and led him back to the chair. "Now, sit. I want to see our Mayor actually at his desk and not standing in front of it."

Reeve laughed as he sat in the chair, but Rufus didn't miss the way he momentarily tensed, as though expecting someone to argue. His hands— the same hands that had drafted the blueprints for the city they lived in— lightly caressed the leather on the arms of the chair as he relaxed. There was something akin to bliss on his face. Rufus decided, in that moment, that there was no way in hell he could let Reeve lose the election.

However, just as he leaned forward, there was a sharp knock on the door. Rufus closed his eyes, willing himself not to snap at whoever was out there, and he listened as Reeve called for them to come in. The secretary was there, a fresh stack of folders in her hands. Her glasses looked as though they were about to fall off of the end of her nose, and she deposited the folders carefully on the edge of the desk before she reached up to adjust them.

"Mr. Tuesti, your messages." She handed him a small stack of papers, glanced back at Rufus as though he might bite her, and then she quickly retreated, shutting the door behind her. Rufus decided that the next time he saw her, he might have to give her a good, sharp smile, the one that always made the sweet girls run. He rather liked seeing her jump.

Reeve thumbed through the messages, and his frown returned as he studied the last one. "I don't know any of these people," he muttered, and Rufus held out his hand. Reeve didn't even hesitate before he handed them all over.

"Reporters mostly," Rufus decided as he glanced through them. "You don't deal with a lot of reporters, do you?" He dropped all of the messages on the edge of the desk, just close enough that he would be able to sweep them into the trash the first chance he got that Reeve wouldn't notice.

"Shouldn't you be in your own office?" Reeve looked up at him suddenly, and Rufus laughed at the confusion on that face. "I mean— ... You have work to do, don't you?"

"I was more concerned with you," Rufus replied, leaning across the desk again. "You're going to have reporters pounding down your door all day today. And probably all the way up to the election itself." He propped up his head on his hand, raising an eyebrow. "You were awfully nervous the last time you were in front of a group of reporters." Reeve swallowed, and Rufus watched his throat work, marveling just a little at how _open_ Reeve was.

But as he leaned over just a fraction more, intent thick between them, a deafening boom cracked through the air. Both of them leaped to their feet, and Rufus felt his stomach sinking at the sight Reactor 08 going up in flames, in plain view from Reeve's window. His brain wasn't really processing the black smoke billowing out of the sides of the reactor, the flashes of light that burst across what windows they could see.

He jerked himself back to reality, grabbed Reeve's arm, and they stormed out of the office toward the elevator. Tseng was already there, holding the door open. Reeve and he exchanged small, tight smiles, and Rufus's eyes narrowed slightly at the motion. But no one said anything until they'd reached the first floor, and even then, it was nothing but a terse, "I'll drive," from Tseng.

Even with Tseng's driving, it still took them almost forty minutes to navigate the chaotic streets and make it out there. Rude and Elena snapped off crisp salutes upon seeing Rufus, and Tseng nodded once to both of them. Elena hesitated, glanced up at Rude, and then announced, "We've got reports of close to fifty missing, sir."

Rufus nodded, but as his eyes slid over their little group, he frowned. "Where's Reno?"

Elena ducked her head, and from Rude's locked jaw, the news couldn't be good. Rufus's stomach sank fractionally. He might not have been the easiest person to work for, but his Turks were... well, special. Hand-picked, as the case stood, and each of them precisely chosen for their own unique skill set.

Losing any of them would be a blow.

"Is he— "

"Missing, sir. We think he was in the reactor." Elena looked back up, having schooled her expression once more, but no amount of composure could hide the red rims of her eyes. "Some of the outer guards reported seeing him enter the reactor less than twenty minutes prior to the ... explosion."

Rufus sighed, and he glanced back for Reeve, only to discover the Wutaian already knee-deep in wreckage, his hands flush against the twisted metal scraps. He didn't interrupt, just watched, and he found it more than just a little fascinating that Reeve didn't even seem to notice him or anyone else. He was in his own world, his hands deftly moving pieces of steel and motioning sharply for someone to assist with pieces that were simply beyond him. Rufus shook his head and flagged Rude down.

"Stay with Reeve. He needs you, you'd better be there." He glanced back around, looking for Tseng, and when he finally found him, he squatted down beside him. "Tseng," he spoke lowly, and Tseng's head lifted to look up at him with those dark eyes. "Tseng, I need you to shut this group down." He held that gaze long enough to assure himself that Tseng understood him.

A sharp nod, and then Tseng was dusting himself off. "I will contact the authorities for this, and—"

A screech cut Tseng off, and both of them looked sharply over at Reeve and Rude. Elena was with them, along with another two volunteers, and, miraculously, Rufus thought he spotted a familiar shock of red hair. His breathing hitched before he could smooth it back out, and he quickly followed Tseng over to them.

There was a lot of blood, but a raised hand a sharp word had a stretcher by them within moments. Reno was in one piece, somehow, and Rufus found himself breathing just a little easier when he saw the redhead attempting to sit up, attempting to fight with the medics. He saw Tseng speaking with Rude and Elena, saw Reeve beginning to direct the other volunteers, and he decided that it only left him.

He walked over to where Reno was fighting the medics, pushed the redhead back down, and muttered, "You'd better damn well listen to them."

"I ...I saw it," Reno replied sharply, gasping slightly between the words. He was holding his side, and the medics both looked up at Rufus. He put a hand on one of their shoulders, and he frowned.

"Saw what?"

"The bomb. Bomber. Whatever." Reno waved his other hand, winced, and fell back again on the stretcher. "Had a gun."

"He had a gun with him?" Rufus filed that away, although he wasn't entirely sure what good it would do them. There were a lot of guns in Midgar, and even more of them in hands that really shouldn't have had them.

"Not... with him." Reno drew a deep breath, then clapped a hand over his forearm. "Arm." And then he collapsed and the medics pushed Rufus from their way before they trotted off with him.

Rufus stood there, breeze kicking up around him, white coat swirling out behind him as he considered it. A gun arm. He smiled slowly as he thought about Tseng's orders. This would be the last time a pawn got so wildly out of control, he decided.

A new car pulled up to the reactor, and he watched, impassively as the two detectives got out, shading their eyes to look up at the screaming mass of metal. It was still burning, still dying. Rufus looked up at it for a moment as well, and he sighed.

Some losses were expected. His father, for example. Some losses were not.


	6. Retribution

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, mention of terrorist attacks.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 3798 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all.

**[[ … Chapter Six: Retribution … ]]**

No matter how many times Zack walked under the plate, he didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

There was something eerie about being down there, especially after having spent the entire day above, shirt sleeves rolled up and digging through a twisted heap of screeching metal that seemed determined to continue catching ablaze long after most of the fires had been extinguished. He shoved his hands into his pockets, looking up at the dark under belly of the plate, wondering what it was like to live down here, to only see the sun in the earliest of morning and the latest of evening when it was below the edge of the plate.

Had _she_ lived down here the past five years? That pretty doll with her unfashionably long, dark hair? He blew out a breath, and his gaze drifted to the large gates that divided under-six from under-seven. He wondered if they'd have time to stop by there again. Turks or no, he wanted to see her again, wanted to watch her dance, to see her laugh as she maneuvered through a bar packed to the gills.

"Zack—" Cloud snorted when Zack jumped, jerked back to reality, back to the present instead of the could-be-future. "Geez, you're jumpy tonight, aren't you?" He laughed at his partner, flipping the cover of his little notepad down.

"Oh, dry up. What did you find out?" Zack smiled though, well aware that they had precious little to laugh about given the current state of affairs. Two reactors down, rolling blackouts initiated to reduce the strain on the remaining six, and the election revving up, already on fire with racial slurs and mud slinging. "Anything useful?"

"There's apparently a number of fellas down here with prosthetic arms. Given the war and then the accidents in Gongaga and Corel both." Cloud sighed. "So, nothing really solid. We can follow up on a few of them though, see if they pan out."

Zack nodded and he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He'd given up on trying to quit. He tapped the pack sharply against his palm. "Right. What about Shinra's finances? Did you find anything out there?"

Cloud shook his head, and he held out a lighter when he saw Zack patting down the front of his shirt. "Not really. I mean, it's hard to dig deep enough to locate anything useful without raising attention, you know?"

"Yeah. We knew this wasn't going to be easy." Zack lit his cigarette and returned the lighter, blowing out smoke in the same motion. "Want one? No? Your loss." He stood there, in the middle of the street with Cloud, smoking his cigarette, trying to simply think. They needed another plan of attack, another way of looking at what was going on.

"Do you think Tuesti's really going to run?" Cloud's voice broke his moment of concentration, but honestly, he welcomed it. He seemed to be thinking in circles, incapable of looking at the problem from any angle except the ones they'd already gone over.

"Probably." He sighed again, reaching up to rake his hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face once again. "He has the know-how to run the city, at the very least, and he's getting a ton of good press with his involvement in the search and rescue ops. Did you see how many reporters were out there, getting pictures of him in the rubble like that?"

Cloud nodded slowly, and then he laughed. "I heard him saying that they needed to set up voting booths below the plate. Shinra didn't look too happy about that, but I think it's one argument that he's not going to win." He and Zack exchanged grins, and Zack finally shook his head.

"Votes from under the plate don't count though, do they?" He hesitated, thinking of that dancer again, and he wondered when exactly he'd managed to join the same thought processes as everyone else. When had the people in the slums stopped being real people to him? "I mean, how many of the laws cross over down here?"

"Technically?" Cloud raised an eyebrow at the question, probably uncertain if Zack was being serious or testing him, and then he shrugged. "All of them. Under the plate is still counted as part of Midgar, so any laws that affect the plate affect under it too."

"...Including the alcohol ban?"

Cloud smiled, but he shook his head. "Controlled substances aren't included in that. Most of those laws are worded to specifically refer to the plate only. ... Have you never read the actual laws?"

"I'm not a rookie like you," Zack retorted, but they both laughed. "No, I have; it's just been a long time." He flicked ashes off of the end of his cigarette and took another long drag, his eyes closing briefly in the motion. "Haven't read them since I was sworn in."

"Five years ago?"

"Nah. I moved here when the third sector sector went up. I was the fourth detective sworn in." Zack shrugged, but he didn't miss the look of admiration on Cloud's face. "So... it's been closer to seven years." He sighed and looked back up at the plate over their heads. "Come on, let's see what else we can find out, and then maybe we can hit up Seventh Heaven again."

"Even with the Turks there?" Cloud shoved his own hands into his pockets, and Zack's grin returned full force as he realized that Cloud had unintentionally managed to mirror Zack's own favorite stance. Or maybe he did it on purpose. Either way, Cloud was like a kid brother, idolizing and mirroring Zack's mannerisms.

"They're nothing we have to worry about." Zack waved a hand. "I mean, what are they going to do? Report us?" He chuckled and the two of them resumed knocking on doors and asking questions, being as unobtrusive as possible. Their badges stayed tucked in pockets, well out of sight, because flashing those under the plate only ended in someone getting hurt.

Zack stepped away from the fifth house he'd knocked at— another door shut in his face— and he was considering another cigarette when he spotted a man walking down the side of the street. "Hey," he called, his eyes narrowing as he noticed the metal glint on the man's arm.

Cloud turned at the words, spotted the fella at about the same time, and he jogged across the street, notepad out. He was closer to the man, and Zack glanced down the streets before he, too, started to cross. There was a moment of silence as Cloud looked down to write something, and Zack felt something cold spread over his stomach as he saw Cloud's badge glint in the light, visible because of the way his jacket had been swept just a little too much to one side.

He opened his mouth, maybe to call out, maybe to shout for Cloud to duck, but it didn't matter because before he could say anything, there was the loud cracking of gunshots. The man, the one with the gun arm, broke into a run, and Zack charged down the street, skidding to a stop only to check Cloud. The bullets had ripped him up, but he still had a pulse, and for a heartbeat, Zack watched the man run.

He couldn't leave Cloud like that though, couldn't let the rookie bleed out in the filthy street under the plate. He clenched his jaw, then pulled Cloud to him and muttered, "Don't you dare die on me."

He didn't really remember the trip back above the plate, although he did know that he had stormed the nearest train station, flashed his badge, and requested an override to the normal schedule. There had been a moment's delay as they cleared it with the station at the top, and then the train had jerked away from the slum station. The nearest hospital was in upper seven, and Zack had the train conductor request a car waiting for them.

That had been over two hours ago.

He paced, hands shaking, as he waited for something, for news, for the doctor or even the damned nurse to come out and say something to him. He hated the waiting more than anything else, the waiting and the knowing that they had _had_ the bastard that the Turk had seen.

He was still pacing when the commissioner came in, and he nodded vaguely toward him before he sighed, raking a hand over his face, scrubbing at his face in a feeble attempt to bring himself back to the present. A hand touched his shoulder, and he stiffened before he looked up at the commissioner.

"What were you thinking?"

Zack's back straightened more, and he lifted his chin stubbornly. The chewing out was coming, he could feel it building in Lazard. He'd managed to avoid them since getting Cloud as a partner because somehow, even though Cloud went along with him on everything, they had simply had the best luck. Everything had worked out where even if Lazard wanted to chew him out, it wouldn't have necessarily been appropriate.

For once, their luck had not held, and Zack ignored the little voice that wondered if it was because they were chasing the wrong criminals.

"Under the plate with no damned back-up? You know better, Fair." Lazard wasn't yelling though, wasn't angry. He seemed more disappointed than anything, and Zack swallowed, feeling his stomach twisting at the feeling that expression sparked in him. Not for the first time, he was grateful that Angeal had taken over a different precinct. Zack didn't think he'd have been able to handle that expression from _him_.

"It was routine questioning," Zack replied, his breath hitching just a little. "Just talking. We weren't showing badges or guns or anything."

"Then what the hell happened? Why is your damned partner having emergency surgery?"

"One of Rufus's Turks reported seeing a man with a gun arm. We saw a suspicious fella down there and Strife went to talk to him." Zack put his hand on the wall, needing to feel something solid, something firm under him since it felt like his world just kept shifting around, spiraling desperately out of control.

"Why did Strife talk to him?" There was the unspoken question there, the accusation that _Zack_ should have been the one talking to someone suspicious, not his rookie partner.

"He was closer. Got to him before I did. Strife went to write something, and the man opened fire and ran." The wall wasn't solid enough to keep his world from spinning, and Zack punched it sharply, biting back the guilt beginning to well up. "The bastard ran and I... I got Cloud back up here instead of chasing him."

Commissioner Deusericus stared at him for several minutes, and finally, he sighed, putting a hand on Zack's shoulder again. "I can't fault you for that, but Fair... this is bad. I don't have to tell you that."

"No, sir, you don't." Zack gritted his teeth, then sighed.

"... Take a few days."

"Sir?" He spun around to look up at Lazard, frowning. "I'm fine; I can work this case—"

"No." The commissioner shook his head, and he looked down the hall, toward the double doors where the doctor would come from. "I've got reports that you've been harassing Rufus Shinra instead of actually working the case, and with your reckless behavior putting your partner in such a state—"

"That's not fair." He was protesting, but Zack already knew that it had been decided. It had been decided the moment that Lazard found out he was investigating Rufus Shinra. Cloud being shot only gave him something concrete to point to. "I've been doing my damned job."

"You have. Now you can take a few days, take care of your partner." Lazard's tone booked no arguments, and Zack scowled at the commissioner's back. Anything else that either of them would have said though died on their lips the moment those double doors opened.

A doctor, his scrubs splattered with blood, came out, wiping his hands on a blue rag. "Zack Fair?" He took a clipboard from a pretty nurse walking beside him.

Zack immediately stepped around the commissioner. "Is he..?"

"He's sedated. We got the bullets out." The doctor sighed just a little, reaching up to rub his forehead. "He should be fine, but we're going to keep him for a while for observation and to make sure he recovers properly."

"Can I see him?"

"If you'd like. He _is_ asleep now, but he should wake up in a few hours." The doctor managed a smile, and the relief that swept through Zack was enough that he had to sit down, had to work up the strength to stand once more. "He's been moved into a new room. The nurse will show you where. Miss Gainsborough, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, doctor." The young woman smiled warmly up at Zack and motioned for him to follow her. He cast one look back toward Lazard, but there really wasn't anything else for either of them to say. He followed the nurse.

Cloud looked pitiful and pale in the middle of the hospital bed, and Zack felt his throat tightening as he looked at him. There were bandages everywhere, and the room smelled faintly of disinfectant and blood. He hesitated, and he moved over to stand beside the bed, his hand absently reaching for Cloud's. He was cold.

Zack shivered and squeezed the hand before he let it drop back down to the bed.

"If you'd like, we could call you when he wakes."

He looked back up at the nurse standing in the doorway, and he shook his head. "No, I'll stay." He glanced around for a chair and reached up to rub his face once more. Just as he sat, the nurse handed him a pillow that she'd pulled from a small closet in the room. He smiled. "Thank you."

"I'll be back by to check on him," she promised, and he heard the under current of her words, the unspoken, _and you_.

He woke several hours later, to a persistent push that kept almost nudging his head off of the edge of the bed. Grumbling, he adjusted his position, and his eyes opened at the weak chuckle.

"You gotta move, Zack. My leg—"

Zack stood up fast enough that he knocked the chair he'd been sitting in over, sending it crashing to the floor. He winced, picked it back up, and scratched the back of his head sheepishly as he looked at Cloud. The rookie was rubbing his leg, where Zack had inadvertently laid his head at some point, but there was a faint smile on those lips.

"How long have you been awake?" Zack rubbed his eyes next, dislodging the sleep caked in the corners, and he stretched. Cloud shrugged and leaned back a little more in the bed, apparently having worked out the problem with his leg.

"No idea. I'm starving though. What happened last night?" He looked up at Zack, and he frowned, clearly trying to recall an elusive memory. "I mean... we were in Wall Market, weren't we?"

Zack shook his head. "No. We had finished up in Wall Market already. We were in the housing district between under-six and -seven."

"That's right." Cloud sighed as he looked up toward the ceiling, absently trailing a hand over his stomach. He winced a little, but it didn't stop him from prodding at the bandages all the same. Zack reached out and moved his hand, frowning.

"Stop that. That nurse is going to eat me alive if she comes in and you're—"

"What was he doing?"

The woman's voice made Zack bite his bottom lip, and he worked up his very best smile before he turned to look at her, all innocence. "Nothing at all, Miss Gainsborough."

"Nothing, eh?" She was smiling though, even as she raised an eyebrow at them both. Cloud had sense enough not to argue, instead doing his very best to mirror Zack, maintaining that look of complete innocence. "Somehow, I don't believe either of you."

"Aw, that hurts. We're detectives, you know. Upholders of truth and justice." Zack nodded firmly, and he wouldn't have had any problem keeping his expression straight had Cloud not laughed at the gravity in his voice. He smacked Cloud lightly on the back of the head, but his relief at hearing Cloud laugh far outweighed his annoyance at being busted.

"Oh, yeah!" She shook her head, and it was only in that moment that Zack even spotted the tray in her hands. "Well, in any case, it's time to see if Detective Strife here can hold down some food." She smiled as she handed the tray to Zack and moved to help Cloud sit up a little more. After she was satisfied with that, she took the tray back.

Zack watched as Cloud eyed the tray suspiciously, and at the first face that Cloud made, he snorted. Quickly, he held up a hand, pointing his thumb toward the door. "I'm going to stop by the precinct for a few minutes, but I'll be back by later this evening, yeah?"

Cloud looked up at him from the roll he'd been inspecting, and he nodded slowly. "Yeah. We can compare notes then."

Zack was careful to keep his expression on the level as he nodded. "Right. Behave yourself. Don't make Miss Gainsborough scold you too much." The moment the nurse's head was averted, he winked, and Cloud snorted to cover a laugh.

Zack ducked out of the room, sighing as he raked a hand through his hair. He couldn't bring himself to tell Cloud that they'd lost the case, that his foolish attempt to speak to Tuesti had led to Lazard finding out about the direction of their investigation. He lit up a cigarette the moment he was outside, and he stared up at the sun, rubbing his eyes one more time. He didn't even know what time it was beyond simply, 'morning.' He found a newspaper vendor, bought a paper, and frowned as he thumbed through it.

The headline was about yesterday's reactor explosion, of course, but it also had a letter printed, some organization called AVALANCHE taking credit for the bombings. They promised more if Shinra didn't immediately take the remaining six reactors offline. There was even a response from Rufus Shinra already in the paper, assuring the people that no rebel organization would be allowed to deny the people of Midgar their power.

What caught Zack's attention was the response from Tuesti that had been included. In it, he publicly condemned the loss of life as a means for proving a point, as well as assured the public that the Midgar Police Force was looking into the matter. He had complete faith that it would be solved as quickly as possible.

Zack smiled slightly, wondering how it was that the man managed to write things like that, things that cheesy and unbelievable, and sound _sincere_. Zack had no doubt that if he were to ask Tuesti personally if he really believed it, he would get an honest, if a little confused, 'of course.' Because Tuesti wouldn't really understand why he was asking.

He sighed, folded the paper under his arm, and flagged down a cab to take him back to Sector Two. He'd no more managed to stroll into the precinct house than he spotted something sitting on his desk. It was a small envelope, unmarked, and he frowned as he tore one end of it to slide the letter out.

He glanced around himself, then looked back at the letter before he slammed his fist against the top of his desk, not even caring that it caused almost every officer in the room to look at him. When he saw the commissioner looming in the doorway though, he offered a disarming smile, tucked the letter into a pocket, and disappeared out the door. He wasn't in the mood to get another chewing for not listening to orders.

He took the issued car to get home, the letter seeming to burn through his pocket to his very skin by the time he pulled up in front of the apartment complex. He leaned forward until his forehead touched the wheel, closed his eyes, and simply breathed, trying not to think of Cloud laying there on the streets in under-six, blood pooling around him. He tried not to think that he'd just waked in and out of the precinct house with Cloud's blood still staining his clothes.

He pulled the letter out once more, read through it, and he nodded sharply to himself. He'd gotten them both in well over their heads, gotten Cloud shot up because he was more concerned with trying to figure out exactly how Shinra had been involved in the explosions. He wasn't entirely sure how the writer of the letter had managed to duplicate his own handwriting so perfectly— he couldn't have shown the letter to anyone else because they'd have never believed that he didn't write it— but really, it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were right, that justice needed to be served.

Zack clenched the letter until it crumpled under his hands. He had seven days to figure out exactly who it was that had shot Cloud, seven days to be ready. Cloud would be avenged.

* * *

_Detective Zack Fair,_

_It is with great regret that I must urge you to cease this line of questioning. Even if your suspicions are correct, there is not enough evidence in existence at this time for you to acquire in order to bring your suspect to justice. Instead, I humbly request that you direct your attention to a certain bar in under-seven. I know you are aware of it, as you have been seen inside at least once._

_You might not be able to bring the one you would like to justice, detective, but you can bring someone to justice instead. You can bring the men responsible for those civilian losses that already number in the hundreds before they are allowed to add more to those numbers. If Commissioner Deusericus has already removed you from the case, do not allow yourself to worry about it. You will simply be able to move more freely through the city._

_The election will be held in seven days, thanks to the urgency gripping the city with the terrorist attacks. On election day, all of the players will be assembled in a single location. Be at the Shinra tower, ready to fill your obligation to the city, detective. _

_With regards,  
__a friend._


	7. Suspicion

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, mention of terrorist attacks, physical violence, implied sexual contact.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4207 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all.

**[[ … Chapter Seven: Suspicion … ]]**

_6 days until the election._

Reeve toyed with the fork in his hand, frowning as he looked up at Rufus. "What do you mean that we don't have to bother with under the plate?"

"I didn't mean it the way you took it," Rufus immediately replied, and he raised an eyebrow at Reeve with a faint smile on his face. "I just meant you don't _have_ to secure the votes if you'd rather not. You have plenty of supporters; more than enough to make certain that you'll win the election."

He tapped his fork on the edge of his plate, his frown still firmly in place. In fact, he was beginning to think it might be a frequent variant on his normal expressions. "It doesn't change the fact that I'm going to make sure there are voting booths set up down there. They have the right to vote just as much as anyone else."

"I never said they didn't."

Rufus managed, no matter how heated Reeve got, to sound as though they were discussing something as trivial as the weather. He never got worked up or rose to any of Reeve's baiting. In that way, he was a lot like Tseng; Reeve hadn't realized just how many mannerisms the two shared. He wrinkled his nose, and when Rufus asked him if he was going to actually eat anything, he set his fork down and shook his head.

"Not hungry," he murmured, and he propped his head up on his hand, well aware that he was behaving like a child. Rufus didn't even seem to notice though, instead choosing to pick up his glass and move it until the tea coated the inside.

"Are you going below tomorrow?"

Reeve looked back over at Rufus, his gaze narrowing. "What?"

"Are you going under the plate tomorrow? To campaign. If you're going to make certain that they can vote, I would like to know that you at least appealed to them to vote for you."

"... I'm not entirely certain that's ethical," Reeve murmured. "I mean... I have to be the one to set up booths down there. Asking for them to vote for me as well seems..."

"Like blackmail? Bribery?" Rufus chuckled into his glass before he set it down. "It is. You're also the first official who wanted to make sure they could vote at all though, so I think it's fitting. Don't you?"

Reeve considered it, and then he sighed. "It shouldn't have taken seven years to make sure that everyone in Midgar can vote, Rufus." He leaned back in his chair, reaching a hand up to rub his face. "Domino should have made certain that there were measures in place for it."

There was the slightest of scraping sounds as Rufus pushed his chair back, as he walked over and put his hands on Reeve's shoulders. "Why didn't _you_ make sure they could vote? If it's so important to you, I mean."

And as much as Reeve wanted to jerk away from that touch, wanted to turn loose a righteous anger, Rufus was right. It took the wind from his sails, and he simply sighed again. "I... I didn't think I needed to get involved in the politics of it all. I was worried more with some of the mechanics of the city." He lifted his glass and looked in it. He didn't drink though. It was more comforting just in his hand.

Rufus made a low noise, something akin to confirmation. "You certainly had enough on your plate. I suppose the one lapse in judgment can be forgiven."

Reeve frowned slightly, but he wasn't sure if Rufus was being serious or not. He toyed with his fork a moment more, just pushing it a little ways along the edge of his plate. Rufus's hand dropped down to cover his, and Reeve found himself looking at Rufus.

"You can't blame yourself. Running a city is more than just a one-person job." Rufus looked at him for a long moment, and then he leaned forward, his lips ghosting over Reeve's. Reeve was pretty sure that his lips parted, that he was drawing in the slightest of gasps for air, and to his own surprise, he wasn't entirely sure that he was relieved when Rufus didn't kiss him.

In fact, there was _definitely_ disappointment welling up under that sensation in the bottom of his stomach.

"Right," he murmured, and he made himself glance away, back at the food, at the forgotten Mideel cuisine. His was cold; Rufus's couldn't have been any warmer. "That's why there's an entire system of people to handle it."

"Exactly. Besides, if you need any help, I'm sure I've got some best and brightest somewhere in the company. At the very least, we could create a joint task force to alleviate some of the paperwork." Rufus smiled and he stretched a little, walking across the room to where he could look out the window. Reeve hesitated for only a moment— just long enough to compose his expression— before he followed.

Midgar never ceased to take his breath away, to make him feel lightheaded. He resisted the urge to put his hand on the window; his own apartment had what his housekeeper had called 'permanent smudges' on his windows from doing just that. Rufus leaned against the glass, his arm folding just over his head to offer a place for him to rest his forehead on. His smile was serene, and Reeve couldn't help but to mirror it.

No one else understood what Reeve saw when he looked at Midgar. No one else lived their life attuned to the rhythm and the pulse of the plate, the smell of the mako in the air, the shimmering quality of the light that filtered through the haze that lingered in the evening. But Rufus recognized Midgar for what it was, he moved in the same pace, felt that same brand of possession when he looked out over it. Reeve pushed his hands into his pockets, and he looked past Rufus toward the sectors.

Voting booths were already being set up in several sectors. They were visible by the sheer number of white and red flags waving over head. Reeve's eyes narrowed as he realized that all of the flags bore the Shinra colors; not a single actual Midgarian flag waved among them. He would have that corrected when he hit the office the next day.

His eyes drifted back over to Rufus, and he swallowed before he said quietly, "I didn't mean to snap. This entire thing—"

Rufus waved his other hand, and he stood up straight before he shot Reeve a grin. "It's unnerving to be drug so thoroughly through the mud right on the heels of being called a saint. I'm aware."

Reeve felt a blush on his face, and he took a tentative step closer to Rufus. It wasn't that he thought Rufus would shut him down; he was pretty sure that it was his move in this little game that they were playing, this dance that Rufus seemed determined to lead him through. He was more concerned about his own reaction to it, the sheer weight that went along with initiating this sort of relationship.

But then they were both moving, and Reeve was kissing Rufus— maybe Rufus was kissing him. It didn't matter. Their lips were actually touching, and Reeve's hands were in Rufus's hair. He drew back after just a moment, but he didn't open his eyes. He didn't think he could right away.

It was foolish; getting tangled up like this when so much was going on. There could be another explosion any moment, and it might not just be a reactor that went up. An entire sector could go ablaze given the instabilities within the systems, the way they were being forced to compensate for the two offline reactors—

Rufus's lips touched his again, and there was a low murmur, "Stop thinking about work. You're out of the office for a few hours."

Reeve opened his eyes slowly. Rufus had extra guards posted at all of the reactors, had the Turks overseeing the shift changes and the actual protective detail. He bit his bottom lip. "You're right," he replied, but it wasn't that easy. He couldn't just turn it off, make himself _not_ think about the plate, about the risks and the way he knew the pipes had to be screaming under the extra strain—

"Focus," Rufus whispered, and he was kissing Reeve again, was pulling Reeve close to him. Reeve shivered, but he yielded. He needed the few minutes, needed to stop thinking. At least for a while.

* * *

_5 days until the election._

The bar wasn't actually open when Zack arrived, but the other dancer was standing outside, smoking a cigarette. He smiled as warmly as he could manage, asking, "Is Tifa inside?" He leaned back against the wall beside her, and she studied him for a long moment, flicking the ash off of the end of her cigarette before she nodded. He nodded in response. "When do you guys open?"

"Soon," she promised, and they both quietly stood there, as though trying to out wait one another. She glanced down the street, looking for someone maybe, then took the last drag from her cigarette before she flicked it to the ground. Zack stepped on it, to make sure that it was out. She watched him, and when she ducked back inside, she motioned for him to follow her.

Tifa was wiping down the bar, humming softly to the jazz already spilling from the record playing in the corner of the room. She didn't even look up when the door opened and shut, just called, "Jessie, you better get back there and change—"

Jessie's cough interrupted her, and she paled marginally when she spotted Zack standing in the doorway. She and Jessie exchanged some sort of wordless communication that Zack couldn't follow, and then she smiled at him and waved him on over to the bar. He didn't sit, just leaned against it, and she stood there, hands braced on the bar as she looked him over.

"What can I get you, detective?" she asked lowly, and he felt his stomach sink. He figured she'd find out sooner or later, but he'd been sincerely hoping for later. Later was always better with this sort of thing.

"A highball?" He rubbed a hand over his face. He should have bought a pack of cigarettes on his way down; he had a sinking feeling that he was going to be craving by the end of the night.

She made his drink but didn't take her fingers off of the rim of the glass right away. Instead, she simply watched as the ice cubes shifted and settled into new patterns. "What are you doing down here?" She didn't look at him, and Zack hesitated before he reached out and put his hand on hers very lightly. She stared at it, then raised those dark eyes to look up at him.

"I'm not here for you," he promised, and his brow furrowed as a flash of something crossed her face. Fear, maybe, but then again, maybe his mind was playing tricks on him, encouraged by the sheer paranoia that had begun to grip him. Everyone seemed to be against him; everyone aside from his secret letter writer.

A writer who mimicked Zack's own handwriting when penning him encouraging notes.

"You're not here about the alcohol then?" She looked at him searchingly, and he shook his head, wanting to reassure her, to see that same expression of content flirtation she'd worn when he'd taken the rest of her cigarette outside. He liked that expression. She twisted her hand in his until she could squeeze it just a little, then she pulled away and let him have his drink.

He had just raised it to his lips when the door opened, and he glanced over his shoulder as Tifa smiled and waved.

"Tseng," she said cheerfully, and she didn't even have to ask the Wutaian what he wanted. She was already mixing his drink. "The others coming down?"

Tseng took the glass from her with an air of ease, of practice, and he shook his head. "No Reno tonight," he finally said, and Zack's stomach sank as he remembered the sloppy redhead, battered and bruised but alive thanks to Tuesti's timely arrival and rescue.

"He still in the hospital?" Zack asked over his glass, and Tseng shot him a look before he nodded. "Which one did he end up in?"

"He needed to see a specialist in Seven," Tseng replied, and Zack snorted just slightly. Same hospital as Cloud then. Tseng raised an eyebrow at the sound, and Zack turned up his glass.

Only after he'd set it back down against the bar's surface did he murmur, "Cloud's in that one."

Tseng nodded slowly, and Zack got the feeling that Tseng was perfectly aware of that, had already known that Cloud was not only in the hospital, but was there because Zack had put him there. He looked up at Tifa, and she offered him a small, reassuring smile before she splashed some extra whiskey in his glass.

"Thanks," he murmured, and he sipped the whiskey, wincing at just how harsh the stuff was when it went down without something to cut it. Tseng gave him a sympathetic look.

"Seventh Heaven Motor Oil," he said, and it took Zack just a minute to understand what he meant. "They make it in the back. It'll burn your throat clean through if you give it the chance."

Zack laughed, and he sipped a little more. This time, he was braced for the burn, was ready for it, and the alcohol went down a great deal smoother. He waved a hand at Tseng's chuckle. "I'll get the hang of it," he announced, and Tseng patted him on the shoulder before ordering another one.

He made himself scarce the moment the other two suits came in— Rude and the blond— and he nursed his whiskey from a corner in the room. He watched Tifa dance solo, Jessie minding the bar. The two men who had been working the last time Zack had been there were gone. He wondered at the fact that he couldn't remember what either of them looked like, and then sighed.

He was trying too hard. Tifa kept topping off his glass though, and really, he didn't think it was all too bad. He did miss Cloud.

He woke to her lightly shaking his shoulder, and he rubbed his eyes before he looked up at her, trying to bring her face into focus. The blond in the suit was still there, and Jessie was scrubbing down the bar top. Zack fumbled for his wallet. "How much?"

Tifa hesitated, and then she shook her head. "Don't worry about it," she replied. "Tseng picked up your tab. You got somewhere to stay?" She tilted her head, and Zack thought about the train ride back above the plate, about the apartment complex sitting in two. He nodded slowly, and Tifa smiled. "Need some help to the station?"

He shook his head, started to get up, but when the world lurched wildly around him, he simply dropped back in the seat. "Maybe," he admitted, and if he slurred the word, no one let on. Tifa simply took his arm and draped it over her shoulders, much to the blond's apparent distress.

"I can take him—"

"No, I've got him." Tifa waved a hand and then they were heading out the door, Zack doing his best not to put too much weight on her. It took them some time, but eventually, they reached the train station. Tifa let him slide onto one of the benches there, and she spoke with the conductor before she came back to sit with him.

She looked tired, but when Zack suggested that she head back, she simply shook her head. "Going to get you on the train," she said softly, and Zack smiled at her tone.

"You don't sound happy about that," he decided, and when the faint blush touched her face, he laughed. "'M not a drunk, you know."

"I didn't think you were," she said, but she said it carefully, as though she were concerned about how he might react to it. He waved a hand at her.

"No. Cloud... Cloud got shot a few days ago." He sighed, staring up at the top of the station, wondering just how long he had until the train pulled in.

"Cloud is your partner?"

He nodded. "Terrorist shot him up," he murmured, and his eyes slid closed. He wondered briefly if he could take her hand, or if that would only serve to get him hit. "We were in under-six lookin' for ... a gun-arm." He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so tired.

There was a slight noise from Tifa, and then she asked, "You were looking for the group? AVALANCHE?"

He nodded without opening his eyes. "My case," he clarified, and he sighed. "Was my case. They took it from me." He waved a hand again, dismissing 'them' as easily as he had her nerves. "Reckless endangerment of my partner."

"... I thought the group was done though," she said softly. "I mean... two reactors is more than enough for a statement, isn't it?"

"They're not done," he replied, and he opened his eyes at the sound of the train pulling in. He pushed himself up to his feet. "They're not done until Shinra's gone. "

Tifa started to say something, and then she simply shook her head instead. She helped Zack all the way to the train doors, and when the train pulled out, she was still standing on the platform, watching him leave.

* * *

_4 days until the election._

It was another night of dancing, and since Elena wasn't there, Jessie took over the cleaning duties, letting Tifa actually get some rest. She was in the middle of scrubbing a stack of glasses, soap and warm water soothing against her hands. She liked doing dishes; far preferred it to actually scrubbing the floor, at least, and she left that to Dyne.

She was humming softly to herself, some tune that Tseng and Rude had broken into in after a few drinks, smiling as she let herself drift, focused on her task. A crashing sound made her head jerk up, and she wiped her hands off on a rag before she stepped into the bar itself to investigate.

Dyne knelt in the middle of several broken glasses, and she grabbed a serving tray off of the bar before she walked over to help him pick up the broken glass. They worked in silence, Jessie worn out from dancing and serving, Dyne weary from breaking up bar brawls before they ended in damage. It wasn't until the door opened that Dyne spoke.

"Jessie, go ahead. I'll get this." But he didn't say it with the same attitude that he normally would, that laid back tone. Instead, he sounded tense, angry, and she studied the two men walking in the bar with Barret. She frowned.

"Tifa doesn't like anyone in the joint after hours," she reminded him, and she was shocked to see his expression turn dark.

"What Tifa doesn't know won't hurt her, will it?" He grabbed her arm, hauled her to her feet, and she jerked herself away from him angrily.

"It's not your place, Dyne—"

"I'm damn well paying to use it. Just go, Jessie." He started toward her, but Barret caught him and pulled him back. She exchanged looks with Barret, her frown deepening, and when he simply shook his head, she sighed.

"Fine. Pick up your damned mess though." And she stalked off, as dignified as she could be. It wasn't until she reached the kitchen again, until the door shut behind her, that she felt herself shaking, and she leaned back against the door for several minutes, just trying to breathe. She put a hand over her chest, and she turned her head so that her ear was against the door.

She could hear some muffled talking but nothing that actually sounded like words. Another sigh, and she walked back over to the sink. She knew that Tifa and Dyne had been fighting, arguing over everything from Marlene's education to his work hours, but she wasn't entirely sure what had sparked it. Elena seemed to think that whatever it was, it would work itself out, and she sincerely hoped that Elena was right. Especially given how bad it had gotten.

She did her best not to think at all until she'd finished all of the dishes, and she decided that she deserved a cigarette for her hard work. Tifa wouldn't mind, and if she did, Jessie would buy two packs next time to make up for it. She slipped back in the bar, and she was pulling a cigarette from the pack when she heard them.

"AVALANCHE has got to prove their point! Placing some damn Wutaian as mayor doesn't change the fact that _Shinra_ is the one pulling the strings."

"Dyne, we need a few more days for the explosives—"

The pack slipped from her fingers, and she felt her mouth go dry. She had noticed that Barret and Dyne kept slipping off, sure, but she'd figured it had been for something usual, like a pair of pretty girls or some club that they both liked to frequent. She hadn't even imagined that they were members of some rebel organization that had managed to kill hundreds of people already.

And planning more, from the sound of it. She replaced the cigarette in the pack, forcing her hands to stop shaking, and she glanced around the bar for just a minute before she decided that she'd better head back into the house. She didn't want Dyne to know that she'd heard.

She pulled the door closed very carefully, not allowing it to make a sound as it latched, and she sat at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers over the wood. For a few more minutes, she debated with herself, and then she shook her head.

She needed to tell Elena.

Jessie pushed herself up from the table, crossed the room to the telephone, and had just picked it up when the door opened. She dropped the phone guiltily, and when she saw Dyne in the doorway, she swallowed.

"Geez, Dyne. You scared me. Did you clean up your mess?" She hoped that she sounded normal, that her voice wasn't shaking as badly as she felt like her hands were.

Dyne walked over to her, his eyes sharp as they skated over her face, and he bent down to pick the phone up with his good hand. He slowly replaced it on the cradle, and Jessie wondered for just a minute how the hell he managed to make such a domestic action look so ominous.

She licked her bottom lip. "What are you doing?" She made herself look at him, made herself meet his eyes and not flinch. He sighed.

"You eavesdropped," he murmured, and Jessie flinched at the accusation. She shook her head quickly, stepping back from him and holding up her hands. "You were going to tell that Shinra whore, weren't you?" He tapped a finger on the phone, and Jessie's stomach sank sharply.

"N-no, Dyne. Why—" But his hand connected with her face before the words could escape her, and she dropped back against the table, using it to hold herself up. Her own hand lifted momentarily to touch the heated spot where he'd hit her. She blinked quickly, forcing her tears back.

"You're not going to say a word to anyone, are you, Jessie?" Dyne leaned in closer to her, and she braced herself against the table. She shook her head. "There's a good girl. Not even that Shinra whore, do you understand?"

There was something wrong with him, she realized, as she nodded jerkily. She didn't dare say anything, didn't dare contradict him when he was so close to her. He reached out with the prosthetic hand, and the cold plastic dragged down over her face. She didn't cry though; not yet.

"You say anything to anyone, and I'll kill you, Jessie," he said, and for all the world, he sounded as though they were discussing the weather. She shuddered. By the time he walked past her— stopping just long enough to pull a beer from the icebox— she was shaking, and when he was finally gone, she fell back in the chair at the table, her hand on her cheek. She didn't bother to blink back tears at that point, but she didn't make a sound as they escaped her.

She gathered up her strength to stand and made it into her room quietly, the tears still streaming down her face. She locked the bedroom door behind her and crawled into the middle of her bed. A pillow muffled the sounds of her crying, of her choking fear escaping her. She didn't want to wake Marlene. Or worse, Tifa.


	8. Affirmation

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, mention of terrorist attacks.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4271 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all.

**[[ … Chapter Eight: Affirmation … ]]**

_3 days until the election._

"Tomorrow night. I don't want you forgetting." Tseng didn't bother to hide the smile on his lips as he spoke into the phone, his eyes lifting periodically to check the door. Reeve had said that Rufus had left a short while before Tseng had called, so he was due to come storming into the building at any moment. "Eight. I know where it is, Reeve. You're not the only one who remembers this city." He chuckled at Reeve's sputtering protest, that was _not_ what he'd meant, but he didn't let Reeve continue for too long.

A flash of white, and he immediately composed his expression and murmured, "I'll talk to you then," and hung up the phone. Reeve was used to that, used to his sudden disappearances. It came with working for the company.

He smoothed the front of his suit just before Rufus's hand hit the door, sent it flying open with such force that at least one receptionist looked up and winced. Tseng fell into step beside him with a practiced ease, long since having grown used to the Vi— the _President's_ moods. He signaled with a small motion of his hand for Rude and Elena to take off, to find something else to do for a while. They saluted with the tips of their fingers against their forehead, and Tseng turned his attention back to Rufus.

Neither of them spoke until they reached the elevator, and Rufus raked a hand through his hair. Tseng leaned forward to tap the button for their floor.

"I just spent an entire day beneath the damned plate, Tseng," he muttered, as though Tseng didn't know where he'd been the past several hours, as though Tseng hadn't assigned both Elena and Rude to shadow Rufus and Reeve. Tseng didn't react though, simply inclined his head. It wasn't a comment that actually needed a response. "And we have another one! He even wants to spend Election day down there."

"Five would be safer," Tseng said slowly. Rufus nodded sharply, and Tseng made a note to mention that to Reeve. A good edge-word about how difficult it would be to protect him adequately below, about the risks the Turks had to take, and Reeve would let up without hesitation.

"Speak to him about it, would you?" That hand was in his hair again, and Tseng's eyes narrowed. Rufus was more agitated than he was letting on. It had to do with more than just being below the plate.

"Yes, sir."

The elevator doors opened and the two of hem walked down the hallway. Rufus was a step ahead of Tseng. When they reached the office, Rufus immediately crossed to stand in front of the window. He needed a few minutes to reorganize his thoughts. That was his habit.

Tseng shut the door behind them. He was just turning to speak when he heard a low, "Damn it! He— ... Tseng."

He walked over to the window and glanced where Rufus was pointing, where Rufus was viciously jabbing toward. The polling booth that had already been set up in five was noticeable, even from Rufus's office, because of the flags. It was set up in one of the squares in the sector, and flags lined all four sides of the squares, as well as right around the booth itself.

It actually took Tseng a minute or two to figure out just what about it had Rufus annoyed. Then he realized that the flags were alternating color. Red and white were Shinra colors. The company colors. Every booth in the city had been wrapped tightly with red and white. Except— and he cut his eyes across to to four to make sure that it wasn't only five— that now they'd taken down half of the red and white flags in favor of a dark blue flag with eight white circles connected with a vivid green stripe.

The Midgar flag.

Tseng hadn't seen it since the proposed design speech, and he hadn't recognized it at first. He felt the beginnings of a smile tug on the corners of his lips, but he carefully kept his expression neutral as he asked, "You don't approve of the Midgar flag?"

Rufus scowled, spun on his heel, and walked over to his desk. He fell back into the seat there, almost gracelessly, and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "You said he was easy to manipulate. You promised that he would do what I needed him to."

Tseng chuckled then, well aware of the unique frustrations that came with dealing with Reeve Tuesti. "He is, and he will. I didn't mislead you." He didn't move from the window, instead watching as some of the white flags in three vanished from sight. "You're over-thinking this."

"You're probably right," Rufus muttered, and he picked up a pen from his desk. He rolled it between his fingers, sighing. "This had better not all be for nothing. It took a lot to get us in this position."

"Yes, sir," Tseng replied. Rufus really had no idea just how much manipulation had gone into this. He'd provided funds and the almost unlimited access that he'd needed to do this job, but he had otherwise kept his hands clean of the entire thing. "Reeve can't lose the election."

"Exactly. If he loses—"

"You misunderstand. Reeve cannot lose the election. It's impossible." Tseng looked away from the window then, turning to glance at Rufus. "His name is the only one that's been in the press within the past few days, his name is the one that the other candidates keep repeating. When the voters look at the ballot, his name will be the only one that seems familiar."

Not to mention Rude and Tseng had already spent most of the last few days combing the obituaries and anything else that could give Reeve the edge he needed. Reeve wouldn't have approved, but it didn't matter. He could complain after he'd been made mayor.

Rufus looked up at him, and he smiled faintly. "Good. I'll be glad when this is all over, Tseng." He sighed as he glanced down at the rapidly growing stack of papers on his desk. "By the time it is, my desk will look like Reeve's." He took the first paper, glanced it over, and signed it. "What about the investigation? How is that going?"

No expression filtered over Tseng's face at the mention of it. He simply nodded once more. "Well. The detective is being handled." Manipulated as smoothly as Rufus had manipulated the previous President into his foolish five year celebration. Who planned a celebration with every single important person in Midgar in the middle of a reactor?

Furthermore, who did that without first posting adequate security?

Tseng never had been able to really understand the previous president.

"Good. Then... he's not going to be a problem." It was a strange phrase, a combination of a statement and a question all at once.

Tseng smiled slowly. "Not at all." He glanced back down toward three, now raising their new, dark blue flags. "He's exactly where we need him."

* * *

_2 days until the election._

The restaurant was quiet when Reeve entered, and he spotted Tseng sitting at the sushi bar with little trouble. He smiled, waved to a few of the patrons that he recognized, and dropped, unceremoniously, onto the stool beside Tseng. His smile widened as Tseng glanced over at him, and when Tseng rolled his eyes— most likely because of Reeve's amusement— Reeve chuckled.

"Do you have to be such a child?" Tseng asked, and Reeve leaned back as Tseng waved the chef over and ordered for them both.

"But you indulge me so, Tseng," Reeve said with a grin. Tseng even ordered his favorites: eel and tuna. "Look at you! You don't even eat eel."

"Maybe I've developed a taste for it," Tseng murmured, but sure enough, the moment the sushi was handed to them, he slid it down to Reeve. He didn't even look at it. Reeve sighed as he shook his head.

"Missing out," he decided loudly, and several of the other patrons, the ones that knew him, laughed and clapped their hands in agreement. Reeve might have exaggerated his pleasure at the taste of the sushi, but only marginally. There was something special about sitting in the middle of Little Wutai, sharing a plate of sushi with Tseng. He pulled his fingers from his mouth with a happy sigh, but when he saw Tseng's expression, he lowered his hand back to the smooth surface of the bar.

The smile faded from his face, and he pushed the plate to the side. "What is it? You have _that_ face on."

Tseng shook his head, raising an eyebrow. That face said, 'Whatever do you mean?' It was one that Reeve had noticed Rufus making. Briefly, he wondered who had picked it up from whom. After a moment, Tseng asked, "Why does it have to be something?"

"Just... you only make that face when it's something bad." Reeve's brow furrowed, and he toyed with one of the chopsticks, waiting for Tseng to give in, waiting for Tseng to just _tell_ him.

Finally, he said, "I've got Elena scheduled for your protection duty during the election. Are you planning on spending the day under the plate?"

"I was. Why?"

Tseng simply shook his head, and Reeve swallowed. There was more to it then, far more than simple curiosity. Especially when Tseng knew full well that Reeve was planning on spending the day under the plate.

"I was just thinking that if you are, I should send Rude, too." Tseng shrugged, and he didn't add anything else (one moment of silence, Reeve counted in his head) as he picked up a piece of the tuna. (Two.) Reeve bit his bottom lip.

"Do you really think it will be that dangerous?" He had an image of her in his head then, smiling and waving. She was a pretty enough girl, adept at handling the press and crowds. The thought of putting her in direct danger was upsetting. Tseng's silence drove the point home, and he sighed. "Rufus said that five could benefit from my presence," he allowed, and Tseng offered him a smile.

"No, if you want to be under the plate—"

"No, no. It's not that big of a deal. I can work five. Or two. Two might be better, yeah?" Reeve smiled. "Five is full of Shinra employees anyway. We all know how they'll be voting."

Tseng smiled then, and Reeve breathed a very slight sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted was to be a burden on someone charged with keeping him safe. "Two would be a good choice. Lots of independents over there." He sipped from his glass, and Reeve nodded. Two's numbers had been particularly indecisive.

"Well, then I guess I'll be in two, won't I?" He glanced back at his plate, pushing one of the pieces around on it. "Where will Rufus be?"

"Why are you asking?" Tseng raised an eyebrow again, but paired with his smile, it was less of an attempt to be innocent and more of a question in itself.

Reeve flushed and waved a hand, dismissing the idea. "Don't be foolish," he muttered, but the blush only got darker. Tseng laughed suddenly, and Reeve looked up at him, not used to hearing the sound.

"So, you did then. You and him?"

Somehow, the heat in Reeve's face intensified. "It's none of your business if we did. Or who I might spend my days with anyway."

Tseng snorted. "I know who you spend your days with. I'm more interested in those nights of yours—"

Reeve coughed loudly into his hand, cutting Tseng off, but when he looked back up, they exchanged grins. There was something to be said about simple camaraderie, about familiarity. He decided after only a moment that he'd had more than enough questions about his personal life, and instead, he asked, "How is Reno doing?"

The smile faded, and while Reeve regretted that, he was grateful that Tseng didn't pressure him. Tseng never did though. "He's well. Better. Had to move him to seven." Tseng sighed, running a finger over the edge of his plate. "He's already being a smart ass again, so that's good."

"Always. When will he be back at work?"

"Few weeks. Long enough to make sure that the materia used to stabilize him didn't create permanent weakness." Tseng shrugged, and Reeve nodded.

That was standard practice; using materia to keep a patient stable until they'd healed enough for proper medicine. The only problem was that bones and muscle knit back together from materia had a chance of not growing back properly. It could end in permanent disability, depending on how the individual reacted to the materia.

"I'll have to stop by to see him," Reeve murmured, and he took a drink of his tea. He couldn't imagine the spunky red head laying helpless in a hospital bed. Most likely, they had strapped him into the bed. "He's up for visitors?"

"Oh, yeah. He's giving the nurses hell already. To Reno's recovery." Tseng held up his glass, and Reeve smiled as he tapped the edge of his glass to Tseng's.

"To Reno's recovery," he agreed quietly, and he took another drink. They ate a few more things, but the talk died down to more standard fare. Gossip, the latest things being sold over in the market, the play being put on by the newest troupe of actors.

It was blessedly normal, and Reeve wondered just how many more nights of that he would have left. Between Rufus and Midgar, he was beginning to think that his time no longer belonged to him. He couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed though. He lived for Midgar, lived through her. And Rufus...

A smile touched Reeve's lips.

Rufus understood.

* * *

_The day before the election._

Jessie had been avoiding her for two days. Tifa's eyes narrowed as she glanced across the room toward her, bent over the books with Marlene. They were both smiling, but Jessie's seemed different somehow. Restrained maybe.

Then, as she tilted her head down, Tifa's eyes widened. There was definitely a shadow of something hidden under her make-up. A bruise along her jaw that Tifa was pretty sure hadn't been there the last time Tifa had helped her with her make-up. She watched the two of them work some more, and then she stepped in, smiling warmly at Marlene.

"Honey, why don't you go up to your room for a bit and draw something for us?"

Without a question, Marlene bolted, clearly thrilled to be allowed to escape the tedium of studying in favor of drawing. Jessie looked away from Tifa, carefully keeping _that_ side of her face away from her. Tifa frowned and reached out to catch Jessie's jaw in her hand. Her eyes narrowed sharply.

"Who hit you?"

But Jessie just shook her head, saying only, "It wasn't Elena, Tifa. I swear. I... I really worry about what she's going to do when she sees it." And then it was time to open, time to dance, and Tifa decided that it would be easier to work Jessie over after they danced for the night. Jessie was always easier to crack after she was tired.

Tifa didn't even have to wait that long. Soon as they both stepped out into the bar, Dyne glanced them over, his eyes lingering on Jessie in a way that Tifa was sure Elena would have hauled him across the bar for. As it stood, Jessie simply shrank back, almost hiding behind Tifa, and Tifa's eyes widened as she realized what happened. She wrapped her hand around Jessie's elbow.

"_Dyne_? Dyne's sorry ass hit you?" Her frown deepened, but Jessie desperately tugged her closer.

"Tifa, don't," she whispered. She hesitated, and then she added softly, "He might hurt Marlene, Tifa. I can't... I can't let you risk her safety."

And Tifa, so help her, listened. She spent the entire night glaring daggers at Dyne, at Barret, at the two bastards sitting with them.

_"They're not going to stop until Shinra's gone."_

Tifa wished more than anything that Zack was wrong; he was prejudiced against the slums, against the struggles they all had to endure living below the plate. He didn't understand what Shinra represented to those in the slums, particularly those from Corel or Gongaga.

Her eyes squeezed closed as she thought of Marlene, asleep in her bed. Pretending to be asleep because she knew Jessie or Tifa one would stop by to check on her before they opened the bar. She always pretended, but she was inevitably asleep by the time they closed, so Tifa and Jessie let her.

Tifa clenched the rag in her hand. She had to tell someone. Couldn't let another reactor explode, another let Dyne and Barret be one more excuse for Shinra to retaliate. Rufus's statements and quotes in the papers had been quite clear that the next reactor that exploded would force him to take action, no matter how much faith Tuesti had in the Midgar Police.

She couldn't let Dyne spiral even more out of control. He'd hit Jessie. Hit her hard enough to leave an ugly bruise along her jaw. If he'd hit Marlene with even a fraction of that force...

She worked the night, dancing and serving drinks and smiling as much as she could. Dyne must have known something was up, must have suspected that she was not as on board as she pretended to be, but he couldn't do anything. He and Barret left early once again, leaving Tifa to clean up after they closed, and she forced herself to leave the mess.

She felt a strange sense of peace stealing over her as she moved through the house, packing a light bag for herself and then walking into Marlene's room and packing one for the girl. Jessie stood in the doorway, watching her with wide eyes, and Tifa jerked her head to indicate that Jessie should do the same.

There was a brief hesitation before Jessie did. Tifa gathered up as much of Marlene's things as would fit in the two bags, and she shivered as she gently pulled the girl into her arms. Marlene woke only a little, exhausted from staying up as late as she could, and Tifa coaxed her into wrapping her arms around her neck.

The three of them stopped in the bar just long enough to pull the money from the register and safe, and then they left. Tifa's heart twisted painfully as she locked the front door, as she cradled Marlene to her, one of the bags in her hand and walked toward the train station with Jessie. The Seventh Heaven was quiet. Dark and alone and the sight made Tifa look toward the train, quickly blinking back the tears that welled up.

There was no telling what Dyne might do when he returned and they were all gone. The building might not even be standing when they came back.

If they came back.

She paid for their train tickets, and once they were stowed away on the back car, Jessie asked, "What are we doing, Tifa? Where are we going to go?"

Tifa swallowed back the lump choking her, and she smiled as evenly as she could. Her hand brushed down over Marlene's hair. "Somewhere safe," she whispered, and something in her expression must have made Jessie go quiet, because nothing else was asked until they stepped off the train in upper seven.

She froze for a minute, standing there under the open sky, with the stars and moon visible overhead. Jessie set one of the bags down in favor of laying her hand on Tifa's arm, and Tifa could understand why. It was as though they were going to fall into the heavens. Her feet were tingling.

But she shook her head; made herself focus. Tseng had said that Reno was in the hospital in upper seven. Zack had said that his partner was in there too. The blond. If anyone knew how to get in touch with Zack, it would be his partner. She supposed that she could have gone to the nearest precinct instead, but she felt uncomfortable with that.

Too many cops had raided Seventh Heaven before, knew her on sight. She didn't want to invite their ridicule when she knew she had someone specific to speak to. She braced herself and said, "Come on." She watched Jessie pick up the bag again. "We have to go to the hospital first."

So they did, and Tifa might have frozen at the desk had there been anyone sitting there who wasn't the nurse on duty. The woman there had a kind expression and a name tag that said she was 'Aerith,' and Tifa found that she could smile when she met those green eyes. They must have looked a sight, but she managed to make her voice even as she asked for Reno. The nurse cheerfully pointed them down the hall to one of the rooms, and Tifa headed down there after another hesitant smile.

Reno wasn't asleep, and somehow, that didn't surprise her. He did look shocked to see them though, and he even started to get up. Tifa held out a hand. "No," she said quickly, swallowing. "I ... I'm looking for Zack's partner. The... detective in the bar a few days ago?"

Reno went perfectly still at her request, and then he snorted and shook his head just a little. "Really? He ... He's down the hall. Two doors down. Cloud Strife." And then he fell back in the bed, chuckling and muttering something about someone saying she might come by.

"What?"

He waved a hand. "Tseng said you might be by looking for him."

She shivered, wondering why the hell Tseng would think that she might be by to talk to Cloud, and went back in the hall, her arms beginning to ache from holding a four year old that was really too big to be carried for so long. She hesitated in the doorway, and Jessie stopped her.

"Go on. I'll hold Mar for a bit." She held out her arms, and Tifa transferred the sleeping girl slowly, careful not to wake her.

"Thanks," she murmured, and she ducked into the room, leaving Jessie with Marlene and the bags. She smoothed out her skirt, and she cleared her throat. The blond in the hospital bed jerked awake, and he stared at her for a moment, blinking and clearly trying to place her.

"You're... that dancer," he finally said, and she smiled a little, surprised that he remembered. He sat up in the bed a bit, hissing as he held his middle. Tifa tried not to look, tried not to think about the bullets ripping from Dyne's gun through his middle.

She failed miserably.

"What are you doin' here?" He sounded tired, and honestly, Tifa wasn't surprised. He was still healing.

"I'm looking for Zack," she said, and his eyes widened. She held up a hand to stop him from interrupting her. "I ... I have information that he needs. About the man who shot you."

He nodded a little, and after just a minute, he fumbled around on the nightstand. Tifa rushed to help him locate a pencil to go with the notepad he had sitting there. He wrote an address down and handed it to her. He smiled slightly. "I hope you can help him," he said quietly, and she felt her stomach sinking.

"Yeah." Her hand closed around the paper, and she started to leave, stopped in the doorway, and looked back at him. "Good luck," she finally added, and then she was gone, before he could say anything else to her. She felt the paper burning in her hand, and she bit back the tears that were welling up in her eyes. She was betraying Barret and Dyne both, betraying the family that she and Jessie-

The thought of Jessie stopped her in her tracks. Dyne had betrayed them first. She'd told him not to make her choose between protecting him and protecting Jessie. He'd made his bed.

She picked up two of the three bags, and Jessie grabbed the other. Marlene was still sleeping. Tifa was grateful.

A cab ride got them over to upper two, to the address Cloud had scrawled on the piece of paper. She paid the cabbie, and her heart was thumping in her chest, thumping hard as she headed up the stairs to the apartment complex. Jessie followed her, and when they reached the door, they exchanged glances before Tifa knocked. She knocked two more times before the door finally opened, before Zack practically tumbled out, his hair in disarray and a faded pair of pants pulled on over his hips.

She quickly pulled her gaze up as she realized he hadn't bothered to fasten them. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he licked his bottom lip before he asked, "Tifa? What's wrong?"

She swallowed. Jessie fidgeted beside her, and then she made herself say it. Made herself spit out the secret she'd been hiding since the very first attack.

"I know who the bomber is. I know who shot Cloud."

Zack stepped to the side to let them all in, and Tifa hesitated. She added, after just a minute, "I need you to promise that he'll go to jail."

"Are you _sure_ he's the bomber?" When she nodded, he smiled. "Then I'll get him in jail. One way or another."


	9. Election

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, mention of terrorist attacks.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4134 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all.

**[[ … Chapter Nine: Election … ]]**

Rufus shook out the sleeve of his jacket before he stepped out of the car. Tseng was waiting for him, hands folded behind his back, and he smiled, feeling surprisingly good, given the situation. He inclined his head to Tseng, who smiled slightly in return, and the two of them started across the street toward the polling booth. Rufus was not at all shocked to see Tuesti, in what had to be his best blue suit, already smiling and shaking hands as he walked the lines. Rufus realized in a flash that they would make for a memorable pair, Rufus in the Shinra white and Reeve in the Midgar blue, backed by matching flags. That was good.

He really should have thought of it on his own.

His eyes narrowed a little as Reeve stopped to speak with a pair of young women. They were showing him their identification cards, presumably asking him something, and he was pointing back to the polling booth. "Who is he talking to?"

Tseng was quiet as he scanned the group, but his smile widened as he spotted the two women. "Our detective's leash," he replied.

Rufus let his gaze roam a little more thoroughly over the brunette's body, and he nodded appreciatively. "I can understand that," he decided after a minute. Anyone with half a brain would be leashed by _that_. The other woman with her though... She was sporting a bruise on the side of her face, and her attempt to conceal it with make up only made it more visible in the bright light glinting off of the streets.

"And the other one?"

"Ah... Elena's girlfriend." Tseng hesitated, and then he added, "They're hiding from some violent drunks under the plate."

Rufus nodded slowly, realizing from the slight pause that there was something more here (had Tseng's game spiraled out of hand for a moment? Getting Elena's girlfriend assaulted didn't sound like Tseng had it under control), then Reeve turned, caught his eye, and he _smiled_. The motion left a funny feeling in Rufus's chest, and he shook it off before he glanced up at Tseng. "Might as well join Reeve in the duties, eh?"

"You really should be in another sector," Tseng said lowly as they crossed the square, closing the distance between themselves and Reeve. "The safety issues that arise from having the two of you spending so much public time together—"

"Rufus! I thought you'd be in Six today." Reeve's good mood was impossible to ignore though, and within only a moment, even Tseng's more severe expression had yielded to it. "Do you think it's wise for you to be here?"

"I'm not the one running," Rufus replied with a lazy grin, and he waved to the crowd all the same. Several giggles erupted from a group of made-up teens near the back of the line, and Rufus glanced back at Reeve. "Besides, I wanted to see what this whole politicking thing is about. Not my realm, you know."

Reeve shook his head, his smile softening, but walked beside Rufus all the same. "Could have fooled me."

"Oh?" Rufus pushed his hands into his pockets as they walked, and he nodded and smiled to pretty much everyone who looked at them. He was pleased to note that Reeve did as well.

By the time they reached the front of the line, there was a definite cheer pulsing through the crowd. Rufus and Reeve didn't have a whole lot of time to speak after that though. They spent most of their time laughing, exchanging jokes and pleasantries, and thanking everyone for the support of both Midgar's voting system and, hopefully, the Midgar Standard Party.

They retired around dark, when the booths were still wrapped up with people, and Rufus invited Reeve back to the Tower to wait for the results. Reeve didn't even hesitate before taking the invitation, and Rufus was satisfied. Perhaps Tseng hadn't misled him after all. Reeve was biddable enough, and the important thing was that he would actually make certain that the government pulled its weight. Rufus wanted to keep the Midgar government in his pocket, but it was a waste of manpower and resources to have to run the thing as well.

Besides, why waste money on it when he could simply keep someone that he could manipulate in the office? Not someone to run over though; he'd watched his father and Domino long enough to realize that it ended up demoralizing the employees more than it was effective. He glanced over at Reeve, sitting in the car beside him, and he tapped his finger on the arm of the car door slowly. Reeve was a good choice on more than simply one level. He would understand the technical aspects of running such a city; understand them far better than any other politician would. Perhaps an engineering degree (or two) needed to be a requirement to run for the office.

They made it to the tower without incident, and Rufus spoke lowly with Tseng just long enough to make certain that the tower was secure. Safe. It had more guards posted on it than any reactor ever had. Until the terrorists were removed from play, Rufus had decided to err on the side of caution. He'd funded them so that they would kill his father and Domino. Not him and Reeve.

He spent his first few minutes in the tower looking over the lobby, his eyes seeking out all the major players they had. Himself and Reeve were the most obvious, and Rude and Elena and Tseng were all on guard duty outside, checking the security and generally making certain that everything was going well. The detective was there, along with the pretty brunette, although he noticed the other girl was missing. Perhaps still hiding her bruises from Elena. There were several more people there— the other candidates, for one, as well as the new heads of departments in Shinra— and there were even more people that Rufus didn't know immediately by name.

In a motion of support for the voters in the slums, at least one trainload of people had been brought up. Knowing that they were there made Rufus uncomfortable, but he wasn't about to send them out. It had been one of Reeve's decisions, and Tseng had quietly supported it. That thought made Rufus a little uncomfortable as well. He knew that their game needed to end. Tonight, preferably, and Tseng had assured him that if he did this, it would end tonight. Instinctively, he double-checked for the gun hidden under his jacket, and once he was reassured that he had it (as though he ever went anywhere without it), he began the mingling.

He'd been lying through his teeth when he'd told Reeve that he wasn't used to politicking. He'd been rubbing elbows and smiling and clenching his teeth to keep his real opinions to himself his entire life. Reeve knew that, on some level, which had accounted for his disbelieving expression, that slight smile and raised eyebrow that had answered Rufus's statement, but they were both far too polite, too polished to actually call one another on it. Instead, they chose to pretend that they were both telling the truth: Reeve when he acted as though he didn't know Rufus was pulling the strings, and Rufus when he acted as though Reeve belonged to anyone but him.

It wasn't long before a reporter caught Rufus's eye, and he let himself offer his opinions, smile cheerfully and word his statements so that it didn't sound as though he already knew how this was going to go play out. He was good at that. Good at keeping his opinions behind carefully constructed phrases. Finally, the candidates were all gathered to sit at a long table by the young woman in charge of reading out the election results, and the room held its collective breath.

For just a minute, Rufus let himself absorb the moment, let the rush of power flood him, let a small smile curve his lips as he looked up at Reeve and the other candidates. Reeve's eyes met his own, and there was something in the moment, something that Rufus wanted to grab and hold on to. He didn't want that lightness in his chest to vanish, didn't want it to pop like the bubble it was, the fleeting moment of absolute perfection. He'd been striving for that moment his entire life. It wasn't fair that it came to him then, when he was so unprepared for it. But Reeve's slow smile in response was enough to make it stretch. Rufus decided in that heartbeat, that space of time, that he couldn't let go. Even after this was all said and done, he would be holding onto everything, keeping it running exactly the way he wanted it to.

He was so caught up in the moment that he missed the announcement of the election results, and the crowd surged forward with a cheer that caught him off guard. Someone grasped his elbow, kept him from being knocked around in the most undignified manner, and he glanced back to exchange a look with Tseng. Tseng leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "The beginning of the end, sir."

Reeve was shaking hands with the other candidates, smiling and congratulating and thanking and whatever was appropriate for him to do, and there was a flash of something glinting in the crowd before them. Rufus turned, and he felt the flow wash away thanks to an icy splash of fear. Without thinking, he pulled the gun from his hip— there was shouting around him— and he fired in the moment that it took his mind to register that the flash was actually a gun that he'd spotted. Tseng's self-defense training had taken over before Rufus had actually had time to analyze what was going on, and just as the gunman fired, he was shouting and grasping his upper arm, where Rufus's bullet had lodged.

In moments, chaos broke out. Rufus looked back toward the platform where the candidates were, and he felt his mouth go dry at the sight of Reeve, clutching the table's edge so hard his knuckles were white. Reeve hadn't ducked down like the others though, hadn't let himself move even as the bullet had struck the wall just to the side of him. He'd stood his ground, and even if he did look as though he might consider fainting after being shot at, Rufus was both proud of him and had the most overwhelming desire to _shake_ him. He was pleased at the flashes of the cameras for the press. The picture would be a good one to introduce the new mayor with.

The detective was in the lobby, handcuffing the gunman, and Rufus felt a laugh bubbling up to his lips as he realized that the man's hand was actually a gun. A gun arm. Reno hadn't been hallucinating then, and from the look on Tseng's face, Rufus suspected that the entire thing had been orchestrated. Composed by a manipulator far more clever than himself. Not for the first time, he was grateful that Tseng worked for him, although he knew he needed to rein the Turk back in at least a little. Couldn't have him endangering key people like that. He left them to it, left Tseng to clean up the last of the loose ends, and instead took the stairs up the platform two by two.

He wrapped an arm around Reeve's shoulders, waving to the cameras so merrily clicking away as he swept them both out of sight and into the elevator there in the lobby. He shoved a key into the lock to remove the restriction to the upper levels and tapped the button for the top floor. He had no doubt that as soon as possible, one of his Turks would arrive up there to verify that he was secure. Reeve's hand clutched at his arm, and he pushed Reeve back against the wall of the elevator, his own relief unmistakable as it coursed through him.

"They shot at me," Reeve whispered, and Rufus leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to pale lips. Reeve kissed him back, almost instinctively, his hand digging a little more into Rufus's arm.

Rufus pushed one of his hands into Reeve's hair, and he murmured, "You're safe," over those lips. Reeve made a low noise, and Rufus repeated the words until Reeve kissed him again. The elevator chimed as they reached the top floor, and Rufus took him by the hand, leading him into the presidential office. He shoved everything off of the desk and gently urged Reeve to sit on it. Reeve was still wide-eyed, still in shock, and he didn't require much instruction.

He would have gotten them both something to drink, anything to help take the edge off, but Reeve wouldn't let go of him. Surprisingly, it didn't bother Rufus as much as he thought it should have. He simply rubbed Reeve's arms, reminding him softly that they were both safe, that no one had been hurt except for the gunman himself, and didn't he deserve it? Who shot in the middle of a public room like that? He could have hit anyone.

It was less than an hour when Tseng found them in the office, both of them sitting on top of Rufus's desk and staring out the window toward Midgar. Reeve had leaned over to prop his head against Rufus's shoulder, was alternating between almost dozing and trembling. Tseng cleared his throat, making them both look up at him and when Reeve sat up straight, Tseng announced, "The shooter has been apprehended. Detective Fair has taken him to the hospital in Seven, where the rest of the Midgar police force will he questioning him. I want the two of you to stay here until we get everything taken care of though." Tseng hesitated, and then he added, "Detective Fair seems to think the shooter might have been responsible for the bombings."

"What?" Reeve tensed slightly at the words, and Rufus reached over to rub his arm again; the slightest of touches, just enough to remind Reeve that there was someone with him. Tseng nodded, and he rolled one shoulder in a sort of shrug.

"Detective Fair will be questioning him later to make certain, but he has witnesses. One of them even assures him that she can locate the clothes with the chemical on them." Tseng offered Reeve a faint smile, and Reeve immediately smiled back. Even it was faltering, hesitant, it was a start. It was enough that Tseng and Rufus could be satisfied that the pressure and the game hadn't damaged him too badly. Rufus leaned back a little, and Tseng added, "The press is also waiting for the mayor's statement. As well as your own, President."

Rufus stood and turned back to offer a hand to Reeve. Reeve raised an eyebrow at him before he slid off of the desk, and they headed back to the elevator. Rufus cast a glance at Reeve, assuring himself that Reeve looked appropriately pale, the perfect combination of nerves and bravery. The people of Midgar would respond well to that. They liked seeing their leaders look just a little shaken, seeing them work through their own fear for the sake of their duty. Rufus had no doubt that reporters would wax poetic about that.

It wasn't as bad as it could have been, standing there beside Reeve as they both spoke to the press. Rufus had to be careful to limit the number of times that he took over the conference, had to make certain that the press viewed Reeve as an equal to him. After the fear and the stress of the bombings had faded, after everything returned to normal, they would begin the accusations that Reeve was little more than a puppet mayor, no better than Domino. Rufus would need to encourage Reeve to start some sort of project, something that didn't have anything to do with benefiting Shinra.

That would help.

When it was all over, Rufus made certain that Rude accompanied Reeve back to his own apartment. He ordered Rude to stay there for the night, to make sure that nothing happened before Rufus could figure out a way to arrange for unmarked, private security. He wasn't about to let go of everything he'd just risked it all for. He didn't have to motion for Tseng to follow him. Tseng knew his moods, knew the way things would go between them. And true to form, the moment they were back in the penthouse, Tseng poured him a drink— some kind of almost black motor oil that Tseng secured in some hole-in-the-wall below the plate.

Rufus sipped it slowly, grimacing at the taste but needing it in his hands, needing the familiarity of it. He looked up at Tseng. "That was a bold play," he finally murmured, and Tseng simply gave him one of those half-smiles.

"Was it?"

"It was. I didn't care for that sort of play. Next time, less risky." Rufus swished the contents of his glass, raising an eyebrow. "Or at least have your own gun to correct the problem when necessary."

Tseng chuckled, and he finally sat just beside Rufus. "Your gun worked just as well, I thought. A sort of... poetic justice in you being the one to defend the mayoral candidates from someone so against the justices of Midgar."

"I didn't think you were much for poetic justice, Tseng," Rufus said lowly, and he sipped the drink again before he finally abandoned it on the small table just within reach. Tseng's smile widened, and Rufus shifted on the couch until one leg was tucked under him and he was facing Tseng, his elbow on the back of the couch. "And really, Reeve could have been killed."

There was a flicker of something across Tseng's face then, and after just a moment, he inclined his head again. "You are correct, of course. I didn't think he would just stand there." Whatever it was that Tseng was feeling, he kept it to himself, but Rufus was satisfied with that slight furrow between Tseng's brows.

"He needs some sort of defensive training," he murmured, and it was practically an agreement more than anything else. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around a lock of Tseng's hair, pulled him closer, and oh, Tseng just _went_ where Rufus tugged him, all compliance and acceptance of whatever Rufus wanted from him. Maybe Rufus didn't need to rein him in just yet. "Rude could do it. He'll need something to distract him anyway with Reno in the hospital, won't he?"

Tseng nodded slowly, and he glanced up at Rufus, his dark eyes completely focused on Rufus. That was intoxicating. Far more so than any alcohol Rufus had ever had. He slid his fingers down the lock of hair, letting them drop off and fall back to Rufus's lap. Then he reached for the glass Tseng had poured him, sipped it, and offered the rest of his Turk. "Drink that. And we will need to find a better place to get alcohol from. That's awful."

Tseng smiled sharply, and he obediently took the glass, tossed it back and finished it in a single drink. Rufus shuddered just watching him do it.

"If we start revoking the alcohol control laws, there will better things to drink," Tseng said, looking down into the empty glass before he set it back on the table.

Rufus nodded. "They can't be revoked all at once though. That would be unpopular with half the city."

"Can't be an unpopular President," Tseng agreed, and Rufus caught that lock of hair again, tugged it.

"Brat," he murmured.

* * *

Reeve was still shivering just slightly when Rude guided him to the car, and he drew a breath as he sank into the back seat, his elbow almost tingling from where Rude had so lightly held him. The door shut— it was almost overly loud, but that was ridiculous given that Reeve had just left a circus of reporters and cameras— and he focused on tracing the grains of leather on the back of the passenger seat. Rude got behind the wheel, and just as he cranked the car, Reeve leaned forward, touched the very tips of his fingers against Rude's arm. "Can you take me to see Reno?" he asked, and for a moment, there was just quiet between them. Then Rude twisted in the seat to look back at Reeve, and he hesitated before he nodded.

It was a very slight nod, but that didn't matter. Rude had said yes, and when they hit the overpass, they took the exit for Sector Seven. Reeve was grateful.

His apartment would be overly quiet, would be huge and empty and Reeve's might not have been able to stand it.

Instead, they pulled up in the parking lot of a hospital, and Reeve pulled his jacket closer around him as Rude led him inside. He started to stop at the nurses' station, to ask for directions, but Rude simply tilted his head toward a hallway. He apparently already knew where Reno was. That shouldn't have surprised Reeve— the Turks always knew almost exactly where one another was, or ... at least, Tseng did— but for a heartbeat, he was completely floored, and then he managed a smile and followed Rude's direction to the room that Reno was in.

Reno glanced up when they walked into the room, and he managed an easy smile as he waved to Reeve. He looked surprisingly small in that hospital bed, bandaged up. Reeve felt a slight twisting in his chest, and then he was shaking his head and pushing his hands into his pockets. "Tseng says you're already terrorizing the nurses," he offered, and Reno grinned sharply.

"Just the ones worth terrorizin', yo. The pretty ones, yeah?" He leaned back against the pillows he was propped up on, and Reeve stepped to the side as Rude moved closer to the redhead. Reno reached up and wrapped his hand around Rude's forearm, and they were quiet then, just looking at one another. Reeve averted his gaze until he heard Reno say, "So, hear you made mayor, yo. True?"

Reeve looked back at him, and Rude had sank into the chair just beside Reno's bed— there were two newspapers on the table there, one in pieces and with tattered edges, as though it had been sorted through by someone incapable of sitting still, but the other was neat and folded open to show the crossword puzzle; it looked like Rude's handwriting on it. Reeve tilted his head. Rude had spent time in here maybe, had stayed with Reno when Rude was off of work. "Yes," he murmured, and he focused on Reno again. "Yes, I won the election earlier. I'm surprised you heard about it—"

Reno shook his head and then jerked his chin toward the door. "The nurses were talkin'. Sayin' you got shot at and the shooter was taken to Eight." He tilted his head, and his grin widened. "Gettin' shot at's a badge of pride, you know."

Reeve could feel himself beginning to blush, and he shook his head. "Nonsense. It was all over so fast that I hardly remember it." That's sort of a lie. It's not like the recollection is crystal clear or anything, but it's ... moments, incredibly crisp, detailed moments. The barrel of the gun, the sweat and the sheer _fear_ that had coursed through him in that heartbeat, that knowledge that it was all over, that it didn't matter that he'd won the election—

"Rufus shot him," Rude told Reno, and Reeve jerked himself back to the present, back to the redhead and his partner and the fact that Reeve was standing in the hospital. The night was over. He was safe— Rufus had told him so, had whispered it damn near into his mouth on the elevator ride up to his office— and Tseng had assured him that this— whatever _this_ was— was over. It was over, and when he went into work in the morning, he would be more than simply acting mayor of Midgar. It would be his office, would be his decisions.

And it would be his job to make certain that Shinra wasn't running his city.

(His city.)

Reno was laughing, and he glanced at Reeve again. His eyes had darker circles under them, and they were very slightly glazed over— tired, maybe— but his voice was even when he said, "So, you and the Pres, yeah?" When Reeve blushed, Reno laughed and offered, "Rufus doesn't protect just anyone."


	10. Conclusion

**Title**: Hitting On All Sixes  
**Author**: Traxits  
**Fandom**: Final Fantasy VII.  
**Rating**: T (teen).  
**Content Notes**: Mild language, mention of terrorist attacks.  
**Chapter Word Count**: 4214 words.  
**Summary**: A horrific 'accident' forces a sudden shift in the power dynamics of Midgar. But the more details that come out, the more it starts to look like it wasn't an accident at all.

**[[ … Chapter Ten: Conclusion … ]]**

The days following the election were some of the quietest that Midgar had ever had. Reeve spent most of them meeting new staff, arranging for programs that he had proposed when he'd been assistant that had been quietly shuffled off into the folders in the file cabinets in which the former Mayor had more or less tucked away anything not given to him by Shinra. He saw Rufus rarely, mostly during meetings with the new heads of departments within Shinra, and even then, they rarely had any time to just the two of them. Tseng had taken to delivering notes between them— wordlessly, of course; he would come to see Reeve for a moment, and when he'd leave, there would be a little note left on Reeve's desk. It took Reeve two more visits before he figured out that Tseng wasn't talking about it, and he had simply pressed a note of his own into Tseng's hand the next visit, prepared for it. Tseng had smiled, slow and easy, and Reeve had been left very mildly breathless under the force of it.

That had been two weeks ago, and Reeve was in his office again, working through the newest information and trying to decide the best way to begin breaking down the barriers between above and below the plates, when a paper appeared in front of his face. He blinked, his eyes focusing a little slowly on the pictures— two men with guns in place of one of their arms— and he ignored the headline in favor of reading the caption. _Barret Wallace and Dyne Vicks were placed under arrest two weeks ago, and after their trial, they have been transported to the Midgar Correctional Facility in Under-Two..._

He looked up past the paper, raising an eyebrow to the blond who had come brandishing it, blue eyes flashing with amusement at Reeve's expression.

"I thought you might be happy. Means we won't have to worry about the terrorists any longer."

Reeve glanced down at the picture, and he noted the state of their clothes— ragged, probably from the slums— and the fact that one of them had rust on his gun. Presumably, the picture was from the night they were arrested and not the trial day itself. The guns would have been removed and they would have been fitted with prosthetic arms instead for their trial. He flipped open the paper to find the rest of the story, and sure enough, there were other pictures of them being escorted out of the courthouse, ill-fitting arms that didn't quite match their skin-tones in place of weaponry.

"I expected to see you at the trial," Rufus added, and Reeve hummed as he skimmed the article. Rufus had offered a quote, had expressed that he had always held complete faith that the Midgar Police would be more than equipped to capture the terrorists responsible for the bombings, for the assault on the newest mayor. Reeve spared a brief thanks for the fact that he hadn't been required to testify at the trial.

"I had other things to do," he replied absently, and then Rufus was pulling the paper from his hands. Reeve glanced up, and Rufus moved until he was leaning against Reeve's desk just beside Reeve's chair. Reeve leaned back, and the next thing he knew, Rufus was actually sitting on his desk, feet on the arms of the chair, and he was leaning in close to Reeve.

Reeve's heart was thumping almost overly loud in his chest. Could Rufus hear it?

"It was a tedious affair," Rufus murmured, and he was pulling Reeve's chair closer to him. Reeve licked his lips and he leaned forward, tilting his head with the most even smile that he could manage.

"Then I didn't miss much, did I?" His smile widened when Rufus laughed, low and soft, and then they were close enough for Rufus to touch his lips to Reeve's, to kiss him and let Reeve kiss him back. One of his hands lifted to wrap around Rufus's ankle— in easy reach with his foot still on the arm of Reeve's chair, and Reeve wasn't sure he'd realized how flexible Rufus was for this to be even remotely comfortable— and Rufus made a low sound before he drew back.

"Might not have missed much, but I could have seen you more," he replied, and he tilted his head, blond hair falling to loosely brush over his eyes before he swept it away with a flick of his fingers. "In any case, we do have a public appearance shortly. Did you get the memo?"

Reeve nodded. An award ceremony for the detective that had tracked down and brought the terrorists to justice. He remembered, had been looking forward to it on some level just because it would have been another chance to see Rufus, to see Tseng and Rufus's Turks who would undoubtedly be there. He very nearly blushed at the thought now, and he leaned back in his chair, his fingers pushing just under the cuff of Rufus's slacks. "Yeah. Who is officially supplying the medal? From what I gathered, it was to simply be a city award."

"It is a city award. That's not to say that Shinra Electric doesn't greatly appreciate what the detective contributed," Rufus retorted, a laugh in his voice and eyes as he rolled his foot a little under Reeve's stroking fingers. "He did me a great service, Mister Mayor. I might want to thank him personally."

Reeve did blush at that, and he glanced up to the ceiling for just a heartbeat to compose his expression before he glanced back at Rufus. "Are you planning on antagonizing him?"

"Oh, Reeve, you wound me. I am quite well behaved, thank you." Rufus was laughing aloud though, and it was addictive, was enough to make Reeve grin.

"Right. I remember the last time the two of you were in a room together, you know. You nearly bit his head off, and he was practically growling at you."

"Luckily, we won't be in a room together then. We're doing the ceremony on the front steps. Open air for plenty of reporters to get their pictures and try to chase us down afterward. Think you're up for that?"

"I was shot at. I think I can handle a few reporters," Reeve replied.

"Oh, all big and bad now that you've been shot at?" Rufus's grin widens, and Reeve flushes darkly as he shakes his head, reaching up to cover his mouth with his free hand.

"Hardly. I just. I meant—"

But Rufus is leaning in close to him again, his feet sliding off of the arms of the chair as he wedges his knees in on either side of Reeve. It's not particularly comfortable— the chair is really not wide enough for it to be— but then Rufus is almost sitting in Reeve's lap, is leaning in close enough to move Reeve's hand and take another kiss, and Reeve ... Reeve can't help but to kiss him back, his hand sliding down to rest against Rufus's thigh.

His suit is going to be wrinkled. He just isn't entirely sure that he cares enough to make Rufus stop, to pull back from this, and by the time Rufus finally does draw back, blue eyes flashing amusement, Reeve's breathless.

He's pretty sure that he's never been kissed by anyone like that in his life.

"Knew what you meant," Rufus murmurs against his lips, and he takes another shorter, softer kiss before he's sliding off of Reeve's lap to stand just beside him again. "We should head down there."

"Right. I ... Wait. The medal—"

"Tseng has it. He'll make sure you get it in time to give it to our illustrious detective."

Reeve licked his bottom lip and nodded, and he stood, brushing off his suit in a vague attempt to get the wrinkles to shake loose. Rufus watched him curiously, tilting his head to one side, and then they were heading toward the elevator.

Reeve couldn't help but note that _Rufus's_ suit didn't wrinkle nearly as easily as Reeve's did. Clearly, he needed to figure out where Rufus ordered his suits from. He could ask Tseng later.

When they got to the front steps, a small platform had already been set up— presumably under the direction of Rude, who was studying it so intently— and Tseng caught Reeve by the elbow and guided him easily around to where he'd be sitting. He had a small box in his hand, and it wasn't until he opened it and handed it to Reeve that he realized it was the medal. "You've already prepared your statements, haven't you?"

Reeve looked up from the medal to nod at Tseng, a smile on his lips that quickly faded when he realized how Tseng was looking at him. "What?" Suddenly, he wondered if he looked like Rufus had just been kissing him close to senseless, but all Tseng did was narrow his eyes and shake his head. Then he finally reached up and adjusted Reeve's hair, shoving it back out of Reeve's face.

"Nothing. So, the detective will come up—"

And it was all standard protocol. Reeve had been to these ceremonies before, had watched Mayor Domino hand out awards to detectives before— Angeal, Genesis, Sephiroth— and even though he was listening as attentively as he could manage, he couldn't stop his gaze from drifting past Tseng to study the crowd already gathered. The detective was there, with a pretty brunette and a very small girl— did he have a family then? Reeve couldn't remember if he'd looked it up before— as was his partner, who was sitting just beside him, holding his stomach as though perhaps it still ached a little. Another brunette was handing him a glass of water and saying something... lecturing him, if her stance was anything to go on.

Another pass of the crowd and he noticed Reno near the back, dropped in one of the chairs and talking with the pretty blond girl— _Elena_, he corrected himself. Elena was in her suit, was standing there with her hands on her hips as she spoke to him, clearly not buying whatever talk Reno was trying to sell her, but Reno wasn't in his suit. It was odd seeing him in plain clothes, seeing in anything but the dark blue that Reeve had only ever seen him out of when he was in the hospital. He tilted his head, and then Tseng was snapping his fingers, bringing Reeve's attention back to him.

"You've not heard a single word I've said," Tseng accused, and Reeve shook his head, a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry. Was distracted. Reno's not working?"

Tseng glanced over his shoulder toward the crowd, and then he looked back at Reeve. "No. He's still limping too hard to work. Now, listen to me. How many of these have you seen?"

"I was present for most of them, Tseng. You know that."

Tseng pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow, giving Reeve one of those looks that made Reeve shift under it, made him fidget until he finally sighed.

"Shiva, Tseng. I know what I'm doing. Really."

Tseng tilted his head back, clearly considering Reeve's words, and then finally he nodded and he pointed to the chair. "Sit. Rufus will be speaking to the press after the award, and he wants you with him for it."

Reeve wasn't entirely sure why. Rufus was perfectly capable of speaking to the press without him, but he wasn't about to argue with Tseng. Instead, he simply nodded, and he glanced from the crowd to the press members that he could see from his seat. He swallowed.

There were a lot of them.

It seemed like even more when he was at the podium, could see them all, and Rufus was standing with him, holding the box for the medal. "Detective Fair," Reeve said with a bright smile as he very carefully pulled the medal out, "we, the people of Midgar, greatly appreciate this service that you have so faithfully rendered to us, and we would hope that you can take this medal as a small token of just what it means to us."

The detective bowed his head, and Reeve slipped it around his neck, turning to smile at the crowd— at the press— just as Rufus added, "We do hope that you continue to serve the city of Midgar with such distinction, Detective Fair."

Reeve smiled at Rufus before he focused on what he was doing again, and then they were standing there in front of the press crowding around the podium. The detective had slipped away the very first moment that he could; Reeve noticed that both his brunette and the girl were missing as well, and he couldn't much blame him.

He really wished that he could have disappeared too, especially as the cameras began flashing. He kept his smile easy and even though, and when Rufus began speaking—"As many of you undoubtedly have heard, the terrorists recently jailed for their attacks on the reactors have claimed that it was a direct reaction to the use of mako."— he let his gaze drift over the reporters, recognizing more than just a few of them from the events of the past few weeks.

He counted himself lucky that he didn't know their names to go along with their faces.

"But Shinra Electric would like to announce that this will no longer be a viable excuse for such vicious attacks." Rufus's voice was a little more tense suddenly, and Reeve looked back at him. He had to work to keep his curiosity out of his face. "Mako is hardly the only energy source on our Planet, and it is not the only option that we will be providing. I would like to formally announce the creation of a new department within the company, one that will be funded just as well as any other department we have, that will be dedicated to creation of alternative energy sources."

For a moment, no one moved. Then six hands shot up and Rufus smiled that sharp, even smile, and Reeve was pretty sure that he completely failed at keeping his own surprise out of his face. The cameras flashed, and Rufus looked over at him. Reeve's chest was tight, and he snapped his mouth shut the moment he realized that it was open.

"Things that need to change," Rufus said slowly, but he wasn't looking at the reporters any longer; his attention was solely on Reeve, "_will_ be changed."

* * *

It was a shame when you had to bolt from your own awards ceremony. Zack was well aware of that, but Tifa didn't protest, didn't argue when he'd gently brushed her arm and tilted his head toward the aisle. She'd simply nodded, leaned over and murmured something to Miss Gainsborough who had come to sit with Cloud, and then they were headed out. Zack would have been lying to himself had he not admitted that Tifa slipping her hand in his own and letting him lead her out thrilled him.

He was looking for the Turks when they left, and he saw three of them. The Wutaian was on the platform, sitting just beside where Shinra had been, and the bald one was in the back of the crowd, standing at an attention that would have made any military man proud. The redhead— not in a uniform, but still so damned distinctive— had been lounging in the chair just in front of the bald one. The blond though... she was missing, and somehow, that concerned Zack more than anything else did.

Almost more than anything else did. What had his attention on the train ride home was not a preoccupation with where the pretty blond might have slipped off to. He kept seeing that expression Shinra had given him when he'd so smoothly leaned around Tuesti to tell Zack, "We do hope that you continue to serve the city of Midgar with such distinction, Detective Fair." And Tuesti had all but beamed at the words, nearly nodding as he looked back at Zack. It had taken everything in him not to punch Shinra right there. ... He was pretty sure that the commissioner would not have found it very amusing or justified though.

When they reached the apartment, he put the key in the lock and twisted, only to realize belatedly that the door had already been unlocked. He sighed, twisted it again, and pushed it open. Tifa was already shaking out her hair, letting it fall loosely behind her as she stepped in, and she smiled widely at the two women sitting at the dining table Zack had tucked in the corner of his living room.

"Elena!" She rushed over and wrapped her arms around the blond Turk, and Zack wondered if the Turk knew that she was in his place— he didn't really see how she couldn't— and then, his eyes widened as he noticed the way Elena hadn't quite let go of Jessie's hand.

Girlfriend then?

"Tifa. You look well," Elena said lowly, and she smiled very slightly at Tifa before she sank back down in the chair. Jessie nodded her agreement, and Tifa took the chair across from Elena.

"It's all this sunlight," she replied, and her smile widened for a moment.

Zack shut and locked the door, then moved into the kitchen. He started pouring glasses of tea— Tifa had been kind enough to make a pitcher the night before— and Tifa, upon seeing what he was doing, moved them to the table one at a time.

"Elena, what are you doing here?"

"I heard you and Jessie had come up," she murmured, and Zack lifted his head at how tense she sounded when she said that. He caught a glimpse of her reaching out to brush her fingers over Jessie's face. There was no bruise now, but Jessie held herself differently ever since that night, ever since that evening that he'd stumbled out of his bed to Tifa and Jessie knocking on the door, Marlene on one hip and bags on their shoulders and Tifa begging him to keep them safe.

She hadn't even needed to ask. He could do no less.

"We came up just before the election," Tifa said, and she leaned against the counter for just a moment as she wrapped her fingers around the last glass of tea. His glass. Then she was moving, and he watched her carry his glass over to sit it on the table at the empty chair. The one between her and Elena. He wondered if she'd be really pissed if he picked it up and left them to it.

He decided against risking it.

Instead, he put the pitcher— mostly empty now— back up and moved to the chair Tifa had picked out for him, lowering himself into it slowly. He felt uneasy with one of Rufus's people so close, but Tifa was at ease with her, trusted her, and Zack couldn't insult that. Not in front of Tifa and Jessie, at least.

"I heard." Elena's hand dropped from Jessie to the table, and she leaned forward a little, tilting her head. The motion sent blond hair cascading over her shoulder around her face, and she didn't bother to brush it back. "Have you been back to Seventh Heaven yet?"

Tifa hesitated, then shook her head. She glanced over at Zack.

He had been at the raid, he had been the one who knew where the clothes with the chemical from the reactors were, and he had been the one, much to the Commissioner's annoyance, directing the entire show. He had no doubt that as soon as his mandatory leave was up, he'd catch hell for that.

"It's... pretty bad," Zack finally said. Tifa hadn't wanted to know when he'd first come back. She hadn't asked, and the few times he'd attempted to approach the subject, she'd pointedly avoided it. He couldn't say he blamed her there. They already had too many things to work through, too many details for them to have to sort and manage and just plain figure out. She hadn't needed the stress of what the police raid had done to her bar.

The damage Barret had caused when he'd discovered that they already had Dyne, that Tifa had taken Marlene and Jessie and run.

In all honestly, taking Barret in had been much harder than Dyne had been. Dyne had hardly seemed sane, had been ranting and raving the entire time as they strapped him onto the stretcher and sent him to the hospital to be patched up from the shot Rufus Shinra had fired. He had been screaming about mako and puppet mayors and the sickness within Midgar.

Zack had been grateful that Reeve Tuesti hadn't seen, hadn't had to hear the sort of things that Dyne Vicks had been raving about.

Barret on the other hand had gone of the deep end the moment he figured out what had happened, but once they had caught him and cuffed him, he'd gone quiet. He'd gone quiet and hadn't said a word except during his trial, when he'd asked, his voice low and rough, if he'd be allowed to see Marlene.

The judge had deemed that up to Marlene's guardian— Tifa had, Zack noticed, simply allowed everyone to believe that she was Marlene's mother, and no one had ever considered that she might not be— and that had been that. Zack had plans to approach the subject later, offer to take Marlene down to see Barret in the next few weeks or so. Just enough that she didn't completely forget him.

(She was, Zack thought, better off forgetting Dyne all together.)

"It is bad," Elena agreed, and she leaned back in her chair, still holding Jessie's hand. After a moment, Jessie glanced over at Zack— weighing something; his reaction perhaps— and then she moved so lightly perch on Elena's lap. Zack had to admit that they looked good together.

Tifa sighed, and she propped her head up on one hand, using her other to push her hair back from her face. "It doesn't surprise me," she finally murmured, and she didn't look at any of them as she bit her bottom lip and just thought for a few minutes. Her eyes were unfocused and staring at nothing. "I imagine Barret didn't take it well, and I can only imagine what the police— no offense, Zack— did to the place."

Elena smiled slightly, and with Jessie in her lap— her hand was in the middle of Jessie's back, petting absently— she leaned forward so that she could capture the hand Tifa wasn't propped up on. "It's bad, but I didn't say it was the end of everything, you know."

Tifa glanced up at her, and for a moment, they were both quiet, and then Tifa's brow furrowed as she tilted her head. "I can hardly afford another bar. Even under the plate, that's a lot of money to invest. Seventh Heaven didn't bring in that much, Elena. I cleared out the register when we left, but..."

Jessie cleared her throat. "Technically, we don't need to start another one. We could always simply find work—"

"I would prefer you working in a bar that Tifa runs," Elena interrupted with, and she exchanged smiles with Jessie. "There's something comforting about how Tifa does things. Reassures me that you're safe."

Zack didn't miss the way Elena's eyes flicked back to Jessie's cheek, her jaw tensing slightly when she spoke. Maybe she wasn't quite as comfortable with the safety Tifa provided after all. Or maybe, _maybe_, she was thinking of what she would have done to Dyne had she seen Jessie before Zack had caught him. Zack let himself consider that for a moment, then added in the fact that if Elena had gotten Dyne first, the rest of the Turks would have gotten Dyne first, and there probably wouldn't have been much left of the bastard for Zack to arrest. Somehow, Zack wasn't sorry at the thought.

"Besides, there's a place a few blocks from here if you like Two. Small place that would be perfect for a bar." Elena tilted her head again, her smile widening. "Even has a proper stage, not the little platform you two made do with in Seventh Heaven."

Zack watched the way their faces lit up at the thought, and he sighed as he leaned forward, his fingers on the glass of tea. He hated to do it, but someone had to, and he broke into the conversation with, "And just what would they serve in Two, Elena? Alcohol's still illegal up here."

But that didn't seem to dampen Elena's mood at all. If anything, her smile widened into a sharp grin. "For now," she agreed, and then she looked back up at Jessie. "But things are changing, Detective Fair."

* * *

_"Well there's no time for doubt right now,  
__And less time to explain.  
__So get back on your horses,  
__Kiss my ring, and join our next campaign,_

_And the Empire grows  
__with the news that we're winning,  
__With more fear to conquer,  
__more gold thread for spinning,  
__Till it's bright as the sun,  
__Shining on everyone."_

— _"Empire," by Dar Williams_

**Disclaimer**: I own neither Final Fantasy VII nor "Empire," by Dar Williams, and I make no money from these writings.

That being said, thank you so much for taking the time to read my work, and I hope you'll spare me a moment to let me know what you thought!


End file.
